All That She Wants
by Princess Pinky
Summary: An alternate version of events that take place in the aftermath of the night that Nathan and Brooke drunkenly created their sex tape.
1. Chapter One

**A/N:** First off, I'm a hardcore Leyton and Naley fan, but I do have a soft spot for Brathan every now and then. I was thinking about their sex tape the other day and a short ficlet came into my head that won't go away, so I decided to give into my urge to write it. Basically, this story is alternate version of events that take place after Nathan and Brooke make their sex tape. (Beware that the chapters are pretty short since this is only a ficlet.)

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter One**

Flashes of color darted in front of her eyes, swirling and splashing and bouncing against the ebony canvas of her eyelids. She could hear a rustling in the distance, it was muffled, like light footsteps masked behind layers of silk crushing against each other. She vainly attempted to open her eyes, but pain rocketed through her temples. It felt like the beginnings of a migraine…or a hangover.

"You look like hell."

The voice cut through the muted sounds she was listening to like a cleaver. "Peyton?" She rolled over, still without opening her eyes. Unfortunately, in her disorientation, she rolled to the opposite side and only realized she was falling when it was too late. "Ugh!"

"Geeze Brooke!"

Brooke felt Peyton's bony – and yet somehow still warm – hands on her arm. She forced herself to open her eyes in spite of the pain. She groaned. "I feel like _shit_."

"What were you out doing last night? I don't think I've ever seen you this fucked up before."

Brooke groaned as she crawled back into her rumpled covers. "I don't even remember." She grabbed Peyton's pillow and shoved it over her face. "And just so you know, your voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard."

"Serves you right. You'd think you'd learn after a couple of weekends that you can't remember."

"Yeah, well, you know me…Education and I have never been friends."

Peyton rolled her eyes as she pulled on a lacy black camisole. "Can't argue with that."

Brooke squinted her eyes. "Hey, you back together with Nathan?"

"Why do you ask?"

"That's your makeup top."

"What?"

"Yeah, you wear it every time you renew your relationship contracts. It's the one he likes."

Peyton dropped her head to look at the top. "Great. Didn't know I was that predictable." She promptly began to strip off the top.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So you're back together…"

"Yeah. _Together._ Whatever that means."

"When did that happen?"

"Last night." She strolled over to the closet and began to rifle through the shirts. "You ditched me to get laid, so…"

"Well, that's a relief." She yawned. "It only took a month."

Peyton plucked a plum colored satin top with a black sequined design at the neck and matching black spaghetti straps and held it up to herself. "Does this look like a makeup top?"

"Only if you're planning on having slutty makeup sex."

"No," Peyton slipped the hanger out, "but I'm not above making him think so." She slid the top on over her black bra and looked at herself again in the mirror. "You goin' to school today?"

"Do I look like I'm going to school today?"

"Alright then. I'll see you later." She wiggled her fingers as she left the room.

Brooke listened as Peyton's footsteps faded away and waited impatiently until she heard the sound of the front door shut. She closed her eyes and pulled her legs up, curling into the fetal position. She couldn't believe how ridiculously awful she felt. Everything hurt and she wondered if she'd possibly been hit by a train the night before. And if the fact that her physical pain wasn't enough, though, Peyton just had to choose that morning to reveal that she'd gotten back together with Nathan. Nathan Scott.

Brooke groaned. Every day for a month, she'd thought about Nathan. Usually, though, she didn't feel like she was about to die. It seemed to intensify the agony, like rubbing alcohol on a body covered in third degree burns. She'd considered many times coming clean with her best friend, telling her that the night she and Nathan had had one of their classic breakups, she had ended up in bed with him. But as quickly as the thought would come to her, it would be abandon. She couldn't tell Peyton she'd slept with her boyfriend, _especially_ when they were on again. It would ruin their friendship, no matter what kind of an ass Nathan really was.

The thing was, a part of her didn't really care…and worse than that, a part of her was _glad_. Unbeknownst to Peyton, Brooke had wanted Nathan for a long time. He was gorgeous, as all of Tree Hill High knew, and she'd crushed on him forever. But _of course_, he'd set his sights on the infamous Peyton Sawyer. Brooke sneered underneath her pillow, imagining all the times she'd flirted with Nathan and propositioned him, in front of and behind Peyton's back.

"Just Brooke being Brooke," she muttered contemptuously. On some level, she knew Nathan would never sleep with her. She had a reputation, after all. She'd been with most of the basketball team and all but one of the football team and so many in between that she couldn't count. So when that night had happened, with them both sitting drunk on the couch, she never really expected that Nathan would say yes, but when he did, she couldn't help herself. Even if she hadn't been drunk, she wasn't sure if she would've had the self control.

Brooke rolled over, this time easing into the spot Peyton had vacated a few hours before her eyes had seen the light of day. She closed her eyes and buried her face into the pillow, inadvertently inhaling the scent of Peyton's lily perfume. She grunted and made a silent wish for sleep. If she was lucky, it would be dreamless, but if she was unlucky, she'd be seeing Nathan again. She'd be back under him on that fateful night, clawing his back as the camera ran, memorializing their – or maybe it was just _her_ – passion.

As luck would have it, his hungry lips found hers in her dream, and before she knew it, she was bunching the sheets between her fists and whimpering into the emptiness of the bedroom.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N:** Thanks so much to **Marissa Davis** and** leona **for leaving encouraging comments. I hope this next "chapterlet" is worth it.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Two**

Peyton hung in the doorway, dressed to kill in a strapless skin tight magenta corset trimmed at the bust with lace, a pleated black leather mini skirt, and three inch strappy heels. Her signature black leather jacket was draped over her left arm, concealing the small purse that she undoubtedly had.

"You're really not coming?"

"I don't feel good," Brooke mumbled from beneath the sheets. "I hurt everywhere. My head, my eyes, my arms, my legs…even my boobs hurt! It's like I did a full body workout and I can't bounce back."

"_Well-"_

"_That_ kind of workout would've been enjoyable, but this…not so much."

Peyton's blonde curls bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head. "I can't believe you're passing up the chance to party! You must _really_ feel shitty."

"Well I haven't been to school all week you know."

"I thought you were just being you."

Brooke gritted her teeth under the covers. "Just go." She leaned her head into the pillow. "Have fun, get laid, whatever…just _go_. I want to sleep."

"_Whatever."_ Peyton tossed her jacket over her shoulder. "Call me if you're feeling better later." Her heels echoed as she made her exit through the house.

When it was safe, Brooke peeked out from under the covers. She forced herself to sit up, though her muscles screamed in protest of the effort. "Maybe a hot bath?" she mused, and struggled to climb off the bed. "That's always relaxing. Sooths muscle aches." She flicked the light on as she reached the bathroom. She dropped to the edge of the bathtub and began to twist the knob. Cold water came out in a gush. Her eyes flicked to the ceiling as she waited for the water to turn hot.

"I swear, if I could feel better right now, I'll never drink again." She seemed to wait…and wait…and wait. Eventually, she felt the steam from the water rub against her cheek like a warm hand. She promptly plugged the tub. "Thanks for the help," she sneered.

Slowly, she began to disrobe, abandoning her pajama pants and her light pink camisole top onto the floor. Steam leisurely began to fill the bathroom, fogging up the mirror and the metal towel racks first. Brooke closed her eyes as she unclasped her bra; her mind immediately drifting to Nathan Scott. A mental kick was in order, but it didn't come. Instead, she imagined their night together, as he laid her onto his bed and unhitched the dark pink clasp himself.

Brooke inhaled sharply, vividly reliving the moment. She squeezed her eyes and abandon the bra on the floor with her other garments and slipped into the hot water. It soothed her somewhat and seemed to relax her mind as well, allowing her drunken, foggy memories of that night to become so much clearer. She tilted her head back and her dark tresses toppled into the water. She imagined Nathan's lips and teeth on her neck, he was a needy vampire.

Brooke began to sink into the water. Her dark brown hair became black as it soaked up the steamy water and formed a dark halo around her head. With a sudden pop, she inhaled and pulled her face beneath the water. The surface calmed as she hid there, the only thing moving was her hair, flowing gracefully like seaweed. Then her cheeks began to turn red and her eyes started to scrunch. With a gasp, she sprung back up, splashing everywhere.

"I could just tell her I fucked her boyfriend," she muttered aloud. "They _were_ broken up, after all. She doesn't really have a right to be mad at me. Besides…it's not like she really loves him anyway." She laughed bitterly. "She'd probably never believe me anyway. Nathan Scott screwing Brooke Davis…how beneath him…although, _technically…_" She bit her lip, chuckling darkly at her pun. "Brooke Davis," she sighed, "just the whore of Tree Hill High." She began to sink into the water again. "Who would want more with Brooke Davis?" She began to blow bubbles over the surface of the water. "Who would ever want to _love_ Brooke Davis?"

She plunged her head under the water again. Bubbles slithered from her nose and lips and made their way to the surface of the water, where the popped upon being united with the air. Her hair floated against the surface of the water, like mahogany moss on a clear pond. Under the water her face was beautiful, like a mermaid. She closed her eyes and the bubbles stopped flowing from her mouth and nose.

_Why can't I have what Peyton has? She's lucky. Her mother cared. And her father still cares. And she has Nathan who'll never leave her. Not for real, anyway. Someday she'll probably even be a Scott. Peyton Scott. And she doesn't even care. Why can't it be me? Brooke Scott. It sounds better that way._

She emerged from the water, her face flushed from its heat. Her hair clung to her shoulders and breasts and skin as she rose from the tub and wrapped a plush navy blue towel around her body. Brooke stood motionlessly on the bath mat for several minutes, allowing the water to run down her body and soak into the towel or the mat. Finally, she took a step towards the mirror and paused to examine herself. As she stared, she noted how plain her lips looked without Rose Blood Lipstick and how her eyes didn't pop without her extra thick mascara and eyeliner. She was just a typical, brown haired cheerleader. _Nothing special._

A cruel smile slunk onto her lips. She opened her mouth to accompany it with an angry laugh, but was interrupted when a scream escaped the gap between her lips. Her eyes expanded and she grasped her stomach, crying out in sharp agony. It felt like a side pain she tended to get when she had to run a mile for P.E. But this time, the side pain was everywhere, spreading across her stomach like an inner wild fire. She grasped for the edge of the table, but her wet fingers slipped across it and she pummeled to the ground, her head hitting the edge of the toilet on the way down. Her eyes fluttered closed as she landed with a thud on the wet bathroom floor.


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N:** I love the theories (and thanks for reading). Here is your next chapter…

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Three**

"Brooke! Brooke! Oh, thank God!"

Brooke could make out fuzzy rainbows. One, in particular, was moving in front of her. She could see flashes of pink and yellow and black. At the same time, her mind was processing the voice that had been calling her name. Something else also registered: warmth. A hand was wrapped around hers. "P-Peyton?"

"You bitch," Peyton's voice cracked, "you had me scared to death!"

Her vision cleared enough to make out Peyton's face, hovering over hers. She couldn't be sure, but it looked like Peyton was even crying. She was still wearing the pink top and leather jacket she had when she'd left. "When did you come back?"

Peyton gently pushed a strand of Brooke's hair behind her ear. "We were out all night." She turned her head, glancing away.

"We?"

Brooke attempted to follow Peyton's line of vision, but a lightning bolt of pain echoed through her neck and she abandoned the quest. It was then that she noticed the room she was in looked different, the wall was a sterile white and contained no familiar mementos. "Where am I?"

"Sweetie," Peyton squeezed her friend's hand, "you're in the hospital."

Brooke jerked, immediately regretting it when pain flooded through her muscles. "What?!"

"Shh, releax." Peyton pressed her hand to Brooke's shoulder, easing her back into the pillow she was propped against. "When Nathan brought me home, I found you in the bathroom…you passed out or something." She bit her lip and leaned in close. "Were you drinking tonight?"

"What?" Brooke's eyes flashed. "No! I…I…" She struggled to remember what, exactly, she'd been doing earlier. She closed her eyes. "I felt like shit so I…I went to take a bath! And then…I don't remember." Brooke heard the door crack open, followed by footsteps. Soon a man in a white lab coat made his way over to the bed to stand in front of Brooke.

"Ms. Sawyer, Mr. Scott, I'll need you to step out for a few minutes."

_Mr. Scott? Nathan? He's here?_ _He came?_ Brooke's mind whirled. Flashes of their night together, mixed with splintered memories of staring at herself in the mirror whirled in her head like a churning hurricane. But before she had the chance to form a coherent response, she felt Peyton's hand leave hers.

"We'll be back soon, Brooke."

"No-"

"I need to talk to you privately," the doctor intervened.

Brooke watched helplessly as Peyton and Nathan, the latter of whom only gave her a brief nod, left arm in arm. She felt something twist in the pit of her stomach. She almost wanted to cry. _He came_, her mind repeated. _Did he come for me? Does he really care about my well being? Or…or did he just come for Peyton?_

"Ms. Davis."

Brooke lifted her eyes. "Who are you?"

"Dr. Hanville. You were admitted here earlier this morning, around two in the morning. You were unconscious. Do you remember what you were doing before you passed out?"

"I took a bath."

Dr. Hanville scribbled a note onto his clipboard. "Were you doing in drugs or alcohol tonight?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I'm not here to judge you, Ms. Davis. I just need to know, so that I know how to accurately treat you."

"No!"

"Alright." The doctor paused, almost staring at Brooke. "Have you had an unusual symptoms lately?"

"What kind of _symptoms_?"

"Unusual pain or intolerances?"

Brooke squinted. "Right after I got out of the bath last night…there was this sharp pain. Like cramps, but ten times worse. Similar to a side ache, but all over my stomach." She studied the doctor as he bent his head, noting her symptoms. "And lately…I've been really tired and sometimes my vision is a little fuzzier than usual."

"Mhmm," Dr. Hanville murmured, more to himself than to Brooke.

"Do you know what's wrong with me?"

"The test results should be back soon, but from what you've described to me, I believe you have a condition known as PIH."

"PIH?"

"Pregnancy-Induced Hypertension. It's a high blood pressure condition."

A cold freeze broke out along Brooke's skin. _Pregnancy? Did I just hear him right? He has to be wrong._

"First time mothers and women under the age of twenty are among those at higher risk."

"I'm not pregnant!"

"We drew blood while you were unconscious-"

"Are you even listening to me? I said I'm _not_ pregnant!"

"We've determined you're about five weeks along."

Brooke shivered. "Five weeks?" _Five weeks ago…that's just over a month. That's when…that's when Nathan and I…oh God!_

"I believe you have a more severe case of PIH. Usually right-sided abdominal pain is more typical, but in rare cases it can be all over. Other symptoms to watch out for are easy bruising, severe headaches, and shortness of breath... But of course you have several options. You can continue the pregnancy and begin treatment for PIH – which involves a good amount of bed rest, less salt and more water in your diet, and closely monitored prenatal visits – or you can always terminate the pregnancy."

_Terminate the pregnancy? I certainly can't continue it, let alone keep it. I can't be pregnant in high school! Let alone pregnant with-with a Scott. Nathan Scott's baby. _

"I know you have a lot on your mind right now, so I'll leave you, but if you have a decision or have additional questions, please don't hesitate to ask for me."

Brooke ignored him as he left, lost in her own thoughts. _What a perfect cliché, the school slut getting pregnant…by the most sought after boy in school, no less._ Brooke pushed her hands to her face. Her fingers tangled into her hair and she yanked hard, attempting to drown out here thoughts with pain. Unfortunately, to no avail.

_I should be able to go to Peyton with something like this. But Peyton…she'd want to know who and I can't tell her that. Never! I have options, what a crock. There's no option, no choice, there's only one thing I can do: I have to get rid of it before anyone has a chance to know, especially Peyton!_


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N:** Wow, thanks to everyone who continues to review, I really appreciate it! Truth be told, it's because of these reviews that this story has taken a much bigger turn than I'd originally intended. lol I even wrote an extra chapter that I hadn't planned on originally.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Four**

Brooke hunched over the steering wheel, anxiously parked in front of Nathan's house. Truth be told, she didn't even know why she was there. She'd made up her mind three days ago in the hospital, telling herself that under no circumstances could or would she keep her best friend's boyfriend's child. She'd even gone so far as to book an appointment at the local family planning clinic, unfortunately the earliest available appointment wasn't until the following day.

So as she drove, she'd somehow found herself at the curb in front of the Scott residence. Nathan wasn't home yet – probably at basketball practice still – and for that she was relieved. She was so nervous that she could feel her heart vibrating against the steering wheel, it was beating so fast that she wondered if she might have an arrhythmia. In fact, if it were to beat much harder, she feared that it might kill her right then and there.

With a flick of her index finger, she pulled down her vanity mirror and caught her reflection. The side of her head was bruised quite darkly and was having trouble healing, just as the doctor had warned of due to her condition. She also had an x-shaped white bandage over it, from where it had cut when she'd hit her head on the edge of the toilet. It made her think of a skull cross flag on a pirate's ship.

"This is one of your worst ideas ever," she glared at herself. "What are you even thinking? What do you need to talk to him for anyway? You'd do best to stay away from him. If you had done that in the first place you wouldn't even be in this mess right now!"

Brooke shrank back at the scowl on her reflection. Usually she wasn't on the receiving end of those looks and she surprised herself at how threatening they were. But it worked, she guessed, it got the message of disappointment and anger through loud and clear. She winced and quickly pushed the vanity back up to the roof of the car and turned her attention to her passenger seat, where her purse was sitting. She pulled it into her lap and dug deep into the bottom, where she retrieved a plastic lunch bag containing three pregnancy tests.

She didn't have to take them out to see their results: a pink cross, a double blue line, and one which flat out stated _Pregnant_. There had been four, but she was so nervous the first time she'd accidentally dropped it in the toilet. Not that it would have mattered much; it would have read the same as the others. She shouldn't have even wasted forty dollars on them, but some deep part of her was hoping that the hospital might be wrong, and even just one negative test would've given her hope.

"You're an idiot, Brooke Davis." She stuffed the bag back into her purse and zipped it up. "You need to get out of here, this was a waste of time." She pinched her fingers around her car key and twisted it, moving it just to the Accessories option when Nathan's car pulled up. Her fingers curled up around the key and she found that she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Not in a transfixed away, but in the sense that she was terrified to face him. "Go. Go Brooke, go _now!_" She pushed her fingers, slightly beginning to twist the key when she saw Nathan look right at her. _"Shit!"_

"Brooke?"

Brooke shivered and found goose bumps appearing along her arms. She abandon her car key and began to rub them, hoping they'd disappear. She watched as Nathan sauntered over to her driver's side door and she plastered on her best Brooke-smile and rolled down her automatic window. "Hey."

"You lookin' for Peyton."

"Uh…sort of," she flashed her eyelashes. "Do you know where she is?"

Nathan shrugged carelessly. "Said something about stopping at the store before she went home or something."

"Oh."

"You gonna be able to cheer again?"

"What?" She looked down, following Nathan's gaze. On her left wrist was a navy blue sleeve, supporting the sprain she'd sustained when she fell. "Oh, _that_. Yeah, I guess so. They said they'll see what it looks like in a couple weeks."

Nathan leaned his arm in the empty window frame. "Is that all you wanted?"

"Uh…" Brooke pursed her lips, her mind screaming at her to just leave. "Actually…I wanted to talk to you."

"About?"

"About…about last month."

Nathan's face puckered up like he'd eaten a lemon. "Last month? What about last month?"

"You know," she looked cautiously from side to side, "when you and I…after you and Peyton-"

"Oh." Nathan ran his hand through his short brunette hair. "Right, _that_." He shook his head. "Don't worry, I don't plan on telling Peyton."

Brooke squirmed in her seat. "Right." She smiled weakly. "Uh…thanks."

"Yeah," he nodded absentmindedly. "I figure, it wasn't any of her business that we hooked up in the first place. She broke up with me, after all. And just because we're back together doesn't mean she needs to know about it. It's not like I cheated on her or something, so it isn't something that she needs to be concerned about."

Brooke just nodded. "Yeah…yeah, you're totally right. It's nothing Peyton needs to know about." Her lips trembled, though she didn't think Nathan noticed. "That's just between you and I," she reiterated, laughing awkwardly to enforce the stance. "Our dirty little secret."

Nathan grinned. "Dirty little secret," he chuckled. "Yeah, good one Brooke." He shrugged. "But for what it's worth, it was great."

"Excuse me?"

"You," he explained. "You were great. I guess it comes from all that experience, right?" He winked.

Brooke felt her stomach churn. She hated her _experience_. "Right back at ya."

"Anyway," he pushed himself off the car, "I have to go. Glad you stopped by though."

"You are?"

"Yeah, I'd been meaning to talk to you ever since Peyton and I hooked back up, but with your accident and everything, Peyton's always been within earshot, so I never really got the chance. I guess we were thinking the same thing though."

"I guess."

"See ya, Brooke." He gave her a half hearted wave and headed for his porch.

Brooke tried to swallow, but her throat felt like it was filled with cotton. It was the swelling feeling she got when she wanted to cry, but the tears hadn't locked and loaded her ducts quite yet. "You stupid girl!" she hissed, jerking her key and bringing her engine to a roar. "That's all you are to him! An experienced bed buddie! You should have known! It's fucking _Nathan Scott!_"

A cloud of smoke rose up from her car wheels as she snapped her wheel to the side and gunned the gas pedal, jerking away from the curb. The tears found their way to her eyes as she began to fly down the quiet residential street.


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N:** I'm a little nervous about posting the next few chapters, but we'll see how it goes…

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Five**

"I can't make it, I'm sorry. There's something I have to do first." Brooke switched her cell phone to her opposite ear. "Yes, I'm sure I'll be fine…No, it's just uh…uh…uh a doctor's appointment." She ran her hand through her brunette tresses in annoyance. "Well, yes, I do have one tomorrow but I have one today too…I don't know, it was…well," she glanced down at her flat stomach, "unexpected." She groaned, but not loudly enough to be heard on the other end of the line, "Sorry Peyton, but I really have to go. I'll meet up with you later. Bye!" Brooke flipped her phone closed while Peyton's voice was still sputtering from the speaker.

As she stuffed her cell phone into her purse, she looked out her passenger window. There were a few cars scattered throughout the parking lot that lead up to the building she was looking at. The building bore the name, Family Planning. Brooke scoffed.

_Family. I wish I had something to call a family._ She pushed open her driver's side door and climbed out, walking a death march towards the Family Planning building with her purse clutched to her stomach like a bouquet. Her stomach was churning and she felt sick. Her twisted sense of humor told her that maybe it was the morning sickness finally kicking in, but she knew better.

The fear and anxiety were finally catching up to her. She'd never had an abortion before. She'd never even been pregnant before, at least not that she'd been aware of. Which in and of itself was surprising, given how many times she'd been drunk and not given a second thought to her boy toy of choice riding bareback.

"Just this one time," she hissed under her breath. "Of all the people in the world, it had to be him! Nathan Scott. _Peyton Sawyer's boyfriend._" She clenched her fists around her purse. "Just like his father, always has to score. Maybe if I told him he'd knock Peyton up three months from now? I could be the next Karen Roe." She gritted her teeth as she walked through the Family Planning doors.

"Can I help you?"

Brooke jumped. A woman was sitting behind a counter, right next to the double doors. "Uh-uh-"

"Do you have an appointment?"

Brooke blanched. "Uh…yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Brooke." She cleared her throat. "Brooke Davis."

The woman typed her name into her keyboard, made two clicks with her mouse, and then lifted her head politely. "Ah, here you are. We should be able to take you in about fifteen minutes." She nodded towards a group of chairs where a few women, mostly in their teens or early twenties, were waiting. "Just take a seat in the waiting area, please."

"Thanks." Brooke eased into the waiting area and stood awkwardly against the wall. No one looked at or acknowledged her. She silently slipped into a seat three chairs down from a girl who looked even younger than herself, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and didn't look pregnant at all. When the girl caught Brooke staring at her, she quickly moved her eyes away.

As her eyes continued to roam the room, she noticed another woman in the corner of the room, maybe a few years older than her, with a visible curve on her stomach. Brooke guessed that she was probably in the latter part of her first trimester, getting _the job_ done just in time. The door to the back room opened and Brooke jumped.

"Amanda Ashton?"

The young girl who Brooke had first been staring at got up and hurried towards the back room, where she disappeared with the doctor. The door creaked as it closed, then hit loudly and locked.

Brooke pushed her purse to her flat stomach and closed her eyes. _I can do this. I have to. It's the only way._ A buzzing noise rang in her ear. She opened her eyes to find a fly buzzing around her head. Annoyed, she waved her purse at it and it disappeared. She could feel her heart banging against her ribs. It reminded her of how she'd felt the first time she'd gone in for cheerleading tryouts. She'd been _so_ nervous. But it had been worth it. _Hadn't it?_

Something wet slid down her neck. Brooke slid her hand under her hair and touched her neck. When she examined her fingers, they were wet. Tentatively, she sniffed and frowned. Sweat. _Is it really that hot in here?_ She wiped her fingers against her denim mini skirt and began to fan herself with her purse.

The sound of aching wheels and sluggish footsteps found their way into the waiting room only minutes later, tempting Brooke to look up again. Her mouth dropped slightly at what she saw: a young woman, maybe in early twenties, but more likely, in her late teens. She was pushing a stroller with a toddler, possibly two or so, in the front and a younger child, maybe a year, in the back.

Brooke wanted to look away, but she couldn't. _My God, two kids and one on the way? One that she plans to get rid of? Talk about extracurricular activities!_ As the woman took her seat, Brooke looked down at her own stomach. _But then again, who am I to talk?_ She felt the sweat on her neck dribble again and this time she rose from her seat and moved to the counter. "Excuse me, do you have a restroom?"

The woman pointed. "Right over there."

"Thank you."

Brooke slipped into the restroom and dropped her purse on the back of the toilet. She felt so hot. If she'd been a thermometer, she would probably shatter from the heat. She found the paper towels and drowned them under cool tap water and began to wipe her neck and flushed face. It felt so soothing. As she patted herself down, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

"You again," she glared defiantly. "I can do this." Her voice was shakier than an earthquake. She wagged her finger disapprovingly at her reflection. "Don't you tell me I can't. I've gotten through much worse before. This is just a bump in the road. I still have my whole life ahead of me."

She eyed the dark blue support on her wrist and winced just looking at it. _What life, Brooke? You're a pregnant whore cheerleader who can't even cheer anymore. What future do you have anyway? Don't kid yourself._

A scowl appeared in her reflection. "And that may be true, but what would a baby add to that? It would just make things worse. Harder. More ridicule. More hate. And Peyton…the only friend you've ever really had would never speak to you again." She closed her eyes, not wanting to look at her own face.

_But then again, wouldn't a baby mean love? A child's love is supposed to be unconditional, right? I wouldn't need a boy or parents…it could just be me and…him or her._ _And maybe…maybe Peyton wouldn't have to know? I mean, it's not like I haven't slept with a million guys. I could tell her it was a one night stand, which would technically be true…and that I don't know who the father is. And maybe, maybe that would be kind of true as well. I mean, don't really know Nathan. He's never been mine to know…_

Brooke pitched forward and rested her head against the coolness of the mirror. "You can't raise a kid," she contradicted again out loud. "You can't raise a Scott. What if the kid were a spitting image of him?" She rolled her eyes at that._ But then again, it wouldn't have to be a Scott…not really. She or he could be a Davis. And…and it's not like I don't have access to the funds to take care of it. Those so-called parents of mine let me have all the money I want anyway, as long as I stay out of their way. They don't even care._

Brooke pushed back from the mirror and studied herself again. When she was little she had a particular baby doll she loved to carry around and play Mommy to. At six-years-old, she promised she'd never abandon that doll. In her own way, she gave it everything Victoria never gave to her. Until one morning she'd awoken to find her doll gone and Victoria informing her that she needed to grow up and stop playing sissy children's games anymore.

"That wouldn't be me," she whispered. "I would never do something like that…I would care." Her eyes tentatively shifted to her stomach. "I could start over. Maybe this is my chance? To forget all the shit I've done and do something right for once. It shouldn't be that hard. I just have to do the opposite of what my parents did, right?" A bitter laugh jumped off her lips. She wadded up the paper towel and tossed it into the trash bin like a basketball. Then she rolled back her shirt to reveal her toned stomach. "I could probably live with stretch marks, right? I mean…sometimes sacrifices are in order for a greater end? Like…real love." Her fingertips brushed softly across her satin skin. "I could do this…" She held both her hands over her belly and her face began to soften. "I _can_ do this."

For the first time in years, a genuine smile found its way onto Brooke Davis's lips. She started to laugh, not even really knowing why. "I can do this. I will do this. _We_ will do this. Just me and you from here on out, okay? We won't need anyone." Brooke snatched up her purse and ran out of the bathroom, not even bothering to cancel her appointment as she walked by the front desk.

As she walked out the front doors, there was a freshness in the air that she hadn't noticed when she walked up. The sun seemed brighter than before. It was freeing. She had a plan now, a direction. She had _purpose_.


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N:** This fic has taken such a series of turns since my original plan for it, but I have to thank you all, because I think after reading your reviews and revising a couple things here and there, it's definitely worked in favor of the story. So without further ado, here's your next chapter…

**_All That She Wants_**

**Chapter Six**

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Brooke glanced over at Nathan and a couple of the other guys still dribbling the basketball around the gym. She shook her blue and white pom-poms in Peyton's face. "Nah, I'll be fine. Besides, I'm really having trouble with this new cheer, so the solo practice might do me some good."

"You know you shouldn't overdo yourself Brooke, you still have that wrist to think about you know."

"Yeah, I know," she groaned, "but you guys specifically came up with this new cheer without flips or pyramids or anything too fancy so I could still cheer with you guys despite my wrist and I don't intend on flaking. I'm gonna learn this cheer if it kills me!"

"Brooke!"

Brooke flashed a cheery smile. "Sorry," she grinned, "bad choice of words?"

"I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"Well don't, you're gonna get wrinkles and then you'd get kicked off the team too."

Peyton puckered her lips and shook her head at the brunette, even opting to wave one of her pom-poms threateningly.

"Oh come on, Peyton! I'm gonna be fine!" She stuffed her pom-poms under her chin and batted her eyelashes. "Don't you trust me?"

Peyton sighed in defeat. "Well if you're sure…"

"I'm sure," she giggled, clapping her pom-poms together and blowing a kiss over them to her friend.

Peyton held up her own pom-poms and slammed them together in the air like a pair of symbols, pretending to catch the air kiss and then thrust out her pom-poms as if to throw it back at Brooke.

"See ya, P. Sawyer."

"See ya, B. Davis."

Brooke pressed her pom-poms to her hips as she watched Peyton leave with the rest of the cheerleading team. Her dark eyes scanned the gym for a clock and she realized it only just past nine. They'd wanted to use their new cheer in three weeks and so they'd stayed later than expected to practice it and likewise, the basketball team had decided to stay late with them and get some last minute hoops in for their game the following week.

Brooke plopped down on the bench and tossed her pom-poms to the ground. She felt positively exhausted. She knew the doctor had told her that she needed to take it easy if she planned to continue her pregnancy, but she figured that she was only six weeks along and that it probably wouldn't hurt to keep her place on the squad at least until she had to reveal that she was pregnant.

Knowing that her period had never been regular since she'd first gotten it at thirteen, she figured she could at least make it another month before spilling the beans to Peyton without suspicion from Nathan and then she'd be able to out herself to the rest of Tree Hill High. Plus, that would give her just enough time to do the new cheer at least twice, and if she didn't she knew she'd feel awful since Peyton had went out of her way to have the squad write up a new one just for her.

Brooke snatched up her bottled water from the bleachers and took a long drink, all the while spying on the four basketball players running around the gym. _Since I'm ignoring the rest orders, I might as well do one thing right and keep up on that whole water thing_, she thought as she downed the rest of the bottle. Unfortunately, her throat still felt drier than the Mojave Desert.

"Wooo! Na-than!"

The cheerleader cocked her head back, noticing that Nathan was swinging from the basketball hoop that he'd just dunked in. She held back a little grin as she saw the muscles protrude from the skin underneath his toned arms as gave a victory shake and jumped down. _You're still hopelessly attracted to him_, she internally scolded herself. _But it's never gonna happen…baby or not._

She pressed her hand to her stomach and it growled. Surprisingly, she realized she hadn't eaten since the morning when she'd snagged a blueberry muffin from a pastry shop on the way to school and now she was famished in addition to dehydrated.

Her muscles ached as she lifted herself off the bleachers, deciding right then to go find the vending machines. _Maybe a couple chocolate candy bars will tide me over until I get home?_ Her stomach growled in protest. _Yeah, yeah, I know I should be eating better now…but seriously, where are you going to find healthy food at a high school? Let alone after hours. A chocolately sugar high will just have to do._

Brooke strolled towards the double doors leading to the hallway. In the distance she could hear the basketball players talking and from what it sounded like, Tim and one of the other guys were getting ready to head off. She groaned. _I hope Nathan stays…I don't want to be stuck at school cheering all by myself. Besides, what's cheering anyway without the eye candy?_

She pushed against the metal bar on the door and her head spun slightly. Flashing black and yellow specks twinkled in front of her eyes and she stopped. _Oh boy, you really did it this time Brooke. You know you can't go all day without eating, especially during cheer practice!_ As the dizzy spell wore off, she shoved her way through the doors and moved sluggishly down the hall until she found the vending machines. To her dismay, they were mostly picked over, except for a bag of Cheetos and several bags of Skittles. "And I don't even like Cheetos," she groaned while feeding her dollar bill into the machine. Her fingers found N4 and the package of Skittles fell into the pickup tray, where she collected it and ripped open the side, accidentally dropping five of the rainbow candies in her haste. She grumbled to herself and popped a handful into her mouth like pills.

Brooke found her way back into the gym, feeling slightly more alert as the fruity sugar flavors tingled her tongue. She noticed that all the guys except for Nathan had left and he was now at the three point line as the basketball flew through the air, spun twice around the rim, and then fell in. She smiled to herself as she moved back to the bleachers and sat down, only to realize she'd forgotten to get another water while she was up.

"Hey Nathan!" she shouted. "You don't have an extra water, do you?"

Nathan waved his hand towards his duffle bag. "There's probably one in there."

"Cool." Brooke abandon her Skittles and wandered down the bleachers to Nathan's duffle bag. She was suddenly feeling a lot warmer than she had earlier. A slithering feeling ran down the back of her neck and she slid her hand behind her hair to check it out, only to discover that it was sweat. "Gross," she muttered under her breath. "Mental note: take shower immediately upon getting home."

As she rifled through Nathan's duffle bag, she felt another droplet of sweat roll down her cheek from her hairline and fall off her chin, landing on the fabric of the duffle bag. Her fingers felt the ribbed plastic of Nathan's water bottle and she yanked it out. "Hey," she hollered as she unscrewed the cap, "does it feel hotter in here to you?"

Nathan squared his shoulders and held up the basketball. "Not really," he replied as he released the ball towards the hoop.

"Huh." Brooke began to gulp down the water. Beads of sweat were beginning to collect on her chest and she promptly wiped them away. "It feels like someone really turned up the heat or something," she laughed uneasily while wiping her sweaty hand onto her skirt. _Maybe I should just go home right now?_ Before she knew it, Nathan's water bottle was empty too. _Damn, I'm sweating like a pig! It's seeping out faster than I can put it back._

She felt another teardrop of sweat roll down her leg and swiped her inner thigh to wipe it away. But strangely enough, it felt unusually thick and she glanced down at her hand, freezing up when she realized her fingers were red. Her eyes traveled to her legs where a stream of blood suddenly dribbled from under her skirt and she screamed.

Nathan's head whirled around as the scream echoed through the gymnasium. He saw Brooke collapse to the ground and the basketball immediately fell from his hands. "Brooke?" he raced over to her side. "Brooke!" he patted her cheek impatiently. "Wake up! Brooke!" He reached for her hand to grab her pulse, only to notice the blood coating her fingers. His eyes grew wide as he looked for the source of the blood, only to realize her inner legs were smeared with it.

"Oh God," he breathed. "You need to get to a hospital!" His fingers twitched as he momentarily panicked, not sure whether to pick her up and race her out to his car or whether to grab his cell phone and dial an ambulance. Finally he dug into his duffle bag and pulled out his cell and shakily punched in nine-one-one.

"Nine-one-one, please state the nature of your emergency."

"She's bleeding," Nathan heaved into the phone.

"Who is bleeding, Sir?"

"Brooke! Brooke Davis. She's a cheerleader."

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"No, she just screamed and fell. Please, you have to get someone over here now!"

"Where are you?"

"Tree Hill High! Hurry!"


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N:** Wow, I got eight review notifications in my inbox after chapter six and I think that's an all time high for this story. You guys are great! It wouldn't be near as much fun writing without you, thanks so much! :-D

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Seven**

The auto-rotating door spun as a nurse pushed an old man in a wheel with an oxygen tank into the hospital. At the same time, a young woman, probably in her mid twenties, was leading a sleepy young boy who looked Kindergarten age out the other side.

Nathan watched the door as he leaned against the outside of the hospital building with his cell phone to his ear. "Peyton, it's Nathan. I tried your cell like three times, but it just keeps redirecting me to your voicemail. I guess it must be dead. Anyway, Brooke's in the hospital again. She passed out just shortly after you left. I don't know what's going on, the doctors won't tell me anything…but I thought you'd want to be here. Give me a call when you get home."

His head thumped against the wall as he closed his cell phone. In stark contrast to his usually fearless, bad boy basketball star image, Nathan looked liked defeated. Under normal circumstances, he preferred to just not give a damn. But tonight, it had just been him and Brooke and he couldn't get her fateful scream out of his ears. It kept repeating over and over and over, like an alarm clock with a broken off button or the high pitched sound one hears when everything is silent and no matter how much you plug your ears, it just won't go away.

The blood had been the worst though. Sure he'd seen blood before: as a child, he sustained so many injuries that it didn't even faze him. But the sight of blood on someone else, much less a girl he knew and had spent years in the same circles with, it twisted his inner organs into a knot more complicated than a ball of tangled Christmas lights.

His feet fumbled across the pavement and into the auto-door. He briefly remembered as a child how he used to love those doors, going round and round in them like a game with his mother until Dan would angrily grab his arm and yank him inside of where ever they were originally headed. But as he walked through now, he wished for lead feet.

Nathan Scott was afraid to find that if he went back up to Brooke's room, he'd find out something horrible had happened to her and he honestly wasn't sure if he could take that. He'd lost great grandparents as a child, and various pets, and he'd even been to a funeral of a friend of his mother's when he was ten, but he had never lost a person his own age, that he'd known for years and even formed somewhat of a relationship…if it could really be called that.

He opted out of taking the elevator up to prolong his avoidance about getting to Brooke's room. It was on the second floor, so he walked, even using the excuse that it would be good exercise and that he might as well take advantage of it. As he pushed open the second floor door though, he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. It seemed to worsen each time he put his foot forward. He felt like some kind of soldier, marching front line into the biggest battle of his life.

Nathan paused in the hallway when he got to Brooke's room. The door was open, but the curtain was drawn around the room, so he couldn't see anything that was going on. He raised his hand to knock on the door when he heard the hushed sound of a male voice and he paused with his hand still raised.

"Ms. Davis?"

Nathan could hear Brooke groan; she had a distinct way of doing so, low and whiny and she almost sounded on the verge of drunkenness. The first time he'd heard, during the first party he'd went to with Peyton and Brooke right after he and Peyton had started going out, it had been such an odd sound that it'd actually made him start laughing. He distinctly remembered Peyton hitting him across the chest for it.

"Dr. Hanville?"

"Yes."

"Ugh…I feel terrible."

"Do you remember passing out?"

"No."

"What do you remember?"

"Uh…borrowing a water bottle from my friend."

Nathan tilted his head when he heard the soft sound of Brooke's breath hitching.

"What activities did you take part in today?"

"Uh, well…cheerleading. But-but nothing strenuous! I promise! It was just a little exercise, that's all. I mean, that's good, right? You should get exercise when-"

"What have you had to eat today?"

"Uh…Skittles and a muffin?"

"That's all?"

"Yeah, dinner and breakfast…do you know what's wrong with me?"

"It's difficult to say at the moment, we'll require a few tests to confirm, but I'm afraid you may have miscarried."

Nathan staggered. _Miscarried?_ He shook his head. _That can't be right, he's got to have the wrong information. Brooke-_

"Nathan!"

He looked up to see Peyton running down the hallway, her mascara running and her face blotched. "Hey."

"What happened?" She ran into his arms, hugging him and crying.

It reminded him briefly of how they used to be, when they first started dating at the beginning of Freshman year…before the life of a rich high school basketball star kicked in. He reached one arm around Peyton's back and held it to her back. "She just collapsed," he explained. "She was-"

The curtain in the room pulled back and Dr. Hanville stepped out. He eyed the couple. "We'll be changing the nurses in fifteen minutes so visitors will have to leave for an hour while the new nurses are given patient updates, but until then you can see her if you'd like."

Peyton tore away from Nathan and dashed to Brooke's bedside, wiping her black smudged eyes with the sleeve of her leather jacket. "What the hell?" she asked, half laughing and half crying. "You better be okay!"

Nathan eased his way into the room, not moving too far past the doorway. He didn't want to have to say anything, but a part of him didn't want to leave either. He took note of Brooke's face: she too had been crying, the rivers of mascara made it obvious enough.

"I…I think I'm okay," Brooke muttered.

"Good." Peyton rubbed her eyes warily. "Because I'm going to kill you now!" She gently swatted Brooke's arm. "How the hell did you end up in the hospital again? What's going on with you? What'd the doctors say?"

Brooke stared down at the sheets covering her stomach. "I dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know? They have to tell you what's wrong with you, don't they?"

"They don't know yet," she amended. "They said they need to run more tests." She smiled weakly. "But as soon as I know…you'll know too, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Peyton held up her fist as if she was holding a pom-pom. "Cheerleader's Honor?"

Brooke also held up her fist and punched knuckles with Peyton as if they were pounding together invisible pom-poms. "Cheerleader's Honor."


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N:** I thought I'd do a quick update for you all before I have to run off to work today. Please enjoy!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Eight**

Peyton was curled up in a chair next to Brooke's bed with a hospital blanket wrapped around her and a drawing tablet in her hand with a half finished sketch of Brooke lying in her hospital room. Peyton's head was tilted at an angle and it looked like she'd fallen into an uncomfortable sleep fairly recently.

Nathan entered the room with two hospital instant coffees in his hands. He noticed that Brooke was asleep first, though her face was pale and every few minutes she'd twitch. He couldn't help but glance at her stomach as well, which was where her hands were – he thought – protectively piled. The knot in his stomach was still there and it seemed to twist a little tighter.

From the corner of his eye he spotted Peyton's drawing pen on the ground and lifted his eyes to examine his girlfriend. He looked down at the coffee and sighed, deciding to place it on the counter next to Brooke's bed. He bent down and scooped up the pen and placed it beside the coffee.

Nathan took a swig of his coffee and gagged slightly. He'd heard rumors about the foulness of hospital coffee machines, but he'd never had the pleasure of actually experiencing it for himself before. Not only was it too hot – even tasting something akin to melted charcoal – but it was also _textured_.

He mouth puckered in disgust and he fled to the sink in the room and spat violently. As the black contents of his mouth slid down the drain, they left the bumpy, gritty grinds behind in the stainless steel sink. Nathan's stomach churned a little as he poured the rest of the coffee into the sink. The red motion detector light began to blink and the water started to gush from the faucet, helping to flush away the offending grinds.

_Figures_, he thought, his inner voice even more bitter than the so-called coffee. _I finally do something nice and it turns out to be crap._ _Must be my bad karma finally catching up with me._ As the water turned off, he tossed the cup into the trash and shuffled over to the makeshift couch whose back cushions could be pulled out to make into a makeshift bed. His eyes returned to Brooke.

She'd fallen asleep a couple of hours ago while he and Peyton had made a quick run down to the cafeteria, only to discover that it was only open from six in the morning until seven in the evening and then had extended their search to find vending machines. They'd gotten back to discover Brooke resting, so Peyton had opted to run out to her car and get her sketchbook because she planned to spend the night, despite his multiple attempts to talk her out of it.

"Mmm…"

The stir hadn't come from Brooke, so Nathan shifted his focus over to the other cheerleader in the room. He saw Peyton's blonde eyelashes fluttering as she started to wake up. As her sketchbook started to slip from her lap as she awoke, he jumped up and caught it before it could land on the floor.

"Nathan?" she yawned, opening her eyes wide enough to see him fully.

"You fell asleep."

Peyton groaned and rubbed her neck. "Yeah," she grumbled, "I just realized that. I have a killer pain in the back of my neck."

"You want me to-"

She spotted the coffee and her pen. "Hey," she interrupted, "whose coffee?"

"Oh," he shook his head, "I wouldn't drink that if I were you. I brought it, but it's shit. Really gritty and burnt."

"Oh." Peyton frowned. "Well, thanks for thinking of me." She gave him a genuine smile that he hadn't remembered seeing directed at him since their Freshman year. Her eyes squinted as she noticed his hand. "Hey, is that my sketchbook?"

Nathan held up his hand, "Oh, yeah." He held the sketch out to her. "It fell off your lap."

"Oh." She snatched it up and promptly turned her attention to Brooke. "Did she wake up at all?"

"No."

Peyton laid her sketchbook on the table and wrapped her arms around herself. "I guess she must need it then." Her eyes cast downwards. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"It's Brooke," he said, his voice sounding strangely confident in his ears though inside he felt completely the opposite. "She'll pull through, she always does, right?"

Peyton slid her hand over Brooke's. "This time just seems different. I dunno, it just…I can't put my finger on it, but it seems more serious…and it scares me. I mean, she's my best friend-"

"I know."

"I can't lose her too, Nate."

"You're not going to lose her."

Peyton wiped her eye with the back of her hand. "She's been hospitalized twice in the last two weeks…forgive me if I don't seem as optimistic."

Nathan grabbed a tissue from the box provided by the hospital and held it out to Peyton. "It's not optimism, I just know Brooke. She always pulls through. She's too stubborn to let something like this take her down."

"You sound like you've been close friends with her for years." Peyton dabbed her eyes with the tissue.

"Well I have known her as long as I've known you," he replied.

"And yet you barely know me."

"Thanks." He turned away.

"Nate. Nathan!"

"What?" he snapped.

"I didn't mean it like that." She sighed heavily. "I just…I'm tired and cranky and…and you know what?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for me tonight." Peyton pulled the blankets off of herself and stood up. "I really appreciate it. I've really felt like lately – and by lately I mean over the past several months – we haven't connected at all. But tonight with the coffee and the tissue and the…taking care of Brooke…" she nodded while placing her hand on his shoulder, "…I just really appreciate it. It tells me that the guy I first started dating is still in there."

"I guess I should take that as a compliment." Nathan turned around and met Peyton's large green eyes.

"That _was_ the intention."

"Thanks…I guess."

"You're welcome." Peyton pitched forward on her toes and leaned up to seal his lips with a soft kiss.

From her bed, Brooke's eyes eased open. The room seemed to fade from black, to white, to bright colors, and finally into sight. At the foot of her bed the first thing she saw was Nathan kissing Peyton.


	9. Chapter Nine

**A/N:** I agree with those of you who said you aren't really Neyton/Pathan fans, but since according to this timeline, they are together, I felt dropping them suddenly would be too unrealistic. Besides, I figure since I'm writing for a couple (Brathan) that I normally wouldn't write for (being a Leyton and Naley fan), I might as well explore the Nathan/Peyton relationship a little more as well. (Especially since I always wondered why she got with him in the first place. I think we only ever got a couple of hints about that and so I figured there must have been something that she genuinely saw in him before he turned into the Nathan Scott we all met in the pilot.) Maybe it's just me, but I tend to think the goodness that Haley brought out in Nate was more of something that she _brought back_ that had been buried due in part to Dan and all the pressures he put Nathan under, especially once he got into high school. But anyway, sorry for the long Author's Note (if you haven't skipped over it by now :-P), I'm done now!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Nine**

"Brooke? Brooke, hey, are you awake?"

She registered a hand on her shoulder, lightly shaking her. Her chest tightened as a yawn built up and moved to her mouth. When she opened her eyes she found the baby faced brunette known at her best friend's boyfriend hovering above her face.

"Nathan?" Brooke rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's a little after eight in the morning. You've been asleep all night."

Brooke's mind felt heavy. _Eight in the morning? It's already morning?_ A flash of Peyton and Nathan kissing at the foot of her bed ran through her head. She remembered closing her eyes and attempting to go back to sleep before either of them noticed her and she supposed it must have worked.

"Where's Peyton?" she asked, suddenly realizing that the blonde was nowhere in sight. She attempted to sit up, but she ached everywhere. It was a feeling she'd become accustomed to lately.

"She went to go find the bathroom and then I think she wanted to stop and get some pancakes at the cafeteria too."

"Oh."

"We need to talk."

"We do?" She finally noticed that the door to her room was shut. She was completely alone with Nathan Scott. "About what?"

"What's going on with you, Brooke?"

"I'm not sure-"

"Don't lie."

"I'm not lying!"

"I overheard some things last night."

"What things?"

Nathan ran his fingers over his hair. "Things the doctor was telling you."

Brooke inadvertently grabbed a fistful of her sheets. "_What_ things?" she demanded for the second time.

Nathan glanced over his shoulder, checking again just to make sure the door was still closed. "I heard him say something to you…say something about…about a miscarriage."

She suddenly felt nauseas. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You may be able to get away with telling your lies to adults, Brooke, but I can see right through them. You're too much like me."

"You know what, I'm feeling tired. I'd like you to leave."

"You were bleeding-"

"Please, Nate, just _leave_."

"So you knew then? You knew you were-"

"_Leave!"_

"I just wanna know _one_ thing." He grabbed the support on leaned over it, staring Brooke right in the face. "Was it…_mine_?"

The door opened, catching the attention of both Brooke and Nathan. Peyton was holding two recycled paper boxes and Brooke could smell the melting butter and hot syrup from her bed. "Hey, why was the door shut?" Her eyes settled on Brooke, who was awake. _"Brooke!" _She practically slid across the floor and shoved the takeout boxes at Nathan before tackling Brooke in a bear hug. "Hey! How are you feeling?"

"Better," Brooke murmured, still staring at Nathan over Peyton's shoulder.

"Good." Peyton smoothed a few stray strands of Brooke's hair. "Because we need you back on the squad, so you'll need to get out of here A.S.A.P. alright?"

"Speaking of that," Dr. Hanville said from the doorway, "I need to speak to Ms. Davis alone."

"You guys should get to class," Brooke announced.

"But-"

"No buts, just go. I'll be fine. I'll call you later, okay? I promised to let you know what was going on after all." She eyed Nathan warily. "Okay?"

Nathan laid his hand on Peyton's shoulder. "Maybe she's right, Peyton?"

Peyton shifted uneasily. "I really don't mind staying…"

Brooke shook her head against her pillow. "It's okay! I'll be fine."

"Yeah," Peyton grumbled, "that's what you said last time."

"If it makes you feel better, we'll have a girls' night as soon as I get out of here, alright?"

Peyton finally relented. "Fine." She scooped up her sketch pad and pen. "But I'm gonna hold you to that!" she promised, waving her pen threateningly at her friend. She swooped down and gave Brooke another hug. "I expect a call within the next few hours."

"Promise."

The blonde grabbed Nathan's arm. "C'mon."

"Bye, Brooke." Nathan glanced at her as they left, his face wearing a look that made Brooke feel more exposed than she ever thought she could.

"So you mentioned last night about running tests today? What kind of tests?"

As if to answer her question, a nurse rolled a cart in past the doctor. "Hello Ms. Davis," she said almost too brightly. "How are you feeling today?"

"Crappy."

The nurse fidgeted at Brooke's colorless tone. She began to plug in the machine.

"What's that?" she wondered aloud.

"It's a sonogram machine."

"But I thought you said-"

"We're going to check just in case." The doctor shut the door. "If you'll just pull down the blankets and lift your gown to reveal your stomach…"

Brooke uncomfortably did as instructed. She never had a problem taking off her clothes in front of people before, but somehow with the doctor's presence she felt awkward. "So there's a chance it could've survived?"

"Bleeding doesn't necessarily equate to a miscarriage, but it is a strong indicator."

"And a sonogram will prove if it was or not?"

"Not necessarily. It's just the first step. If we find a heartbeat, we'll have a more accurate diagnosis."

"And if you don't?"

"Then we'll resort to an ultrasound."

"Why can't you just do a test?"

"It's too soon. You'd still be releasing pregnancy hormones."

"Oh."

"This'll feel a little cold," the nurse said as she squeezed a tube of jelly and showed it to Brooke. "Are you ready?"

"I guess."

The nurse uncapped the tube and squeezed the clear goo onto Brooke's belly. She picked up the detector on the sonogram machine and used it to swirl around the jelly evenly.

Brooke squirmed as goose bumps sprung up along her flesh. The jelly felt like coagulated ice water.

"I apologize for the discomfort Ms. Davis."

Brooke watched the monitor on the machine intently. A thumping sound began to come from it and she inhaled sharply as the thumping began to spike. "Is that it? Is that the baby?"

"No, that's your own heartbeat," the nurse replied gently. "We have to find yours so we can discern it from anything else."

The thumping sound fell in time with the look on Brooke's face. "Oh."

"We may not even detect a heartbeat," the doctor replied calmly. "Sometimes heartbeats are too low to hear, sometimes we're just unable to find them, and often times with pregnancies this early on they just aren't detectable on the sonogram yet."

The nurse moved the instrument around Brooke's stomach a few more times.

Brooke anxiously watched the monitor, waiting and hoping for a sound, even if it was just a tiny blip. _Please_, she begged, _please…just give me something. Anything!_

The nurse glanced at Dr. Hanville with an unsettling look in her eyes and shook her head.

_Silence._


	10. Chapter Ten

**A/N:** Brooke's sonogram experience was inspired and loosely based upon the sonogram experience a friend of mine had to go through several months ago, and due to that, this chapter is dedicated to her unborn son, Jayson…

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Ten**

"Turn it off."

The nurse sighed.

"_No!"_ Brooke grabbed the nurse's hand. "Not yet!"

"Ms. Davis-"

"No, _please!_ Maybe it's just hard to find?" Her voice cracked. _"Shy?"_

"I'm sorry," the nurse murmured. She moved the detector across Brooke's belly as she took it away. A small blip sounded from the machine.

"What was that?" Brooke's eyes were almost bulging from her head. "You heard that, right?"

The nurse looked anxiously at the doctor. When he gave a nod, she moved it back across the line in the jell that she'd made across Brooke's stomach. The machine blipped again.

"Right there!" Brooke cried. "That's something. That's it, right? That's my baby?"

The nurse slowly moved the detector along the line until she found the blip for a third time, this time keeping it there. The blip continued steadily.

Brooke couldn't help herself. Tears were running down the sides of her face. _"Please," _she begged, "tell me that's it!"

"I believe so." Dr. Hanville made a note onto his clip board.

"Oh God," Brooke breathed. "Thank you. Thank you!"

"You're not out of the woods yet, Ms. Davis. The fact still remains that you were bleeding last night when you were admitted."

"What caused it?"

"We think you may have still had a miscarriage."

"_What?"_ Brooke's hand shakily pointed to the sonogram screen. "But you just said yourself that there's a heartbeat on that screen! How can there be a heartbeat without a baby?!"

"Calm down," the doctor demanded. "Stressing yourself out like this will only cause both of you more harm."

Brooke pressed her teeth together like a rabid dog. "Then tell me what's going on!"

"We believe you may have suffered from Vanishing Twin Syndrome, in which case one twin is miscarried and the other is fine. VTS has a prevalence rate of about twenty-one percent and while most often the miscarried twin is just absorbed in the womb and most women don't even realize they've miscarried, it isn't unusual for the body to dispel the miscarried twin resulting in bleeding like you experienced."

Brooke clutched the railing on her bed. "So…I was pregnant with twins and I miscarried one?"

"That's what I believe to have happened. PIH, which you've already been diagnosed with, is also quite common among pregnancies with multiples. Unfortunately you fit a several criteria for it PIH, which makes the miscarriage unsurprising."

"Does that mean I have a higher chance of miscarrying the other baby as well?"

"It's possible, _especially_ if you continue to ignore the treatment for PIH. I told you the first time we spoke that bed rest was essential and that doesn't exclude cheerleading…which with your injured wrist, you shouldn't even be doing in the first place."

"I have to quit the team completely then."

"It would be a wise choice, if you plan to continue the pregnancy."

Brooke pulled nervously at a strand of her hair. "I do." She shook her head. "I guess I didn't realize how serious I had it…but just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it, _immediately_."

The nurse picked up a soft towel and began to wipe Brooke's stomach off.

"First of all, you'll need something to eat. I'll send in someone to get your breakfast order and I'll have her bring in some prenatal vitamins as well."

"Thank you." She pulled the blankets back up over her belly. "When will I be able to leave?"

"I'd like to monitor you for a few more hours, but I'd say you could probably leave by this evening if all goes well."

"Good…" Brooke nodded more to herself than to him. She glanced around the room and spotted the telephone. "Does that dial out?"

"You'll need to press nine first."

The nurse smiled and wheeled the table with the phone on it to Brooke's bedside, in place of the sonogram machine. As she pushed the sonogram machine back out of the room, she gave Brooke a little wave. "Congratulations."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**A/N:** I can't believe this chapter is finally done. I think I must've rewrote it like three times because the first two settings I put them in just seemed way off, but I think I like where they ended up. Third time's a charm, right?

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Eleven**

"Careful," Peyton's voice warned, "step up."

Brooke clutched Peyton's hand as she lifted her foot.

"Okay."

Everything was black. All she could hear was the sound of Peyton's instructions, the scuffing of their shoes, her breathing, and her own anxious thoughts. She knew she couldn't get out of talking to Peyton to know, she'd put it off long enough as it was.

"You're going to be feeling better in no time! Careful now…"

Brooke could feel Peyton pulling on her hands, so she leaned forward.

"Here's the railing."

"Thanks." Brooke gripped the wooden stairs railing and fumbled a little with her feet before finding the first step. She stepped onto it and kicked around before finding the second step. _I feel like I'm just learning to walk_, she groaned inside her head. Then another thought hit her: _I wonder if this is how my daughter – or son – will feel like when he or she is learning to walk? _She placed her hand to her stomach without thinking.

"Is something wrong?"

Brooke winced at her mistake. "Uh, no!" she flashed a smile in the direction Peyton's voice was coming from. "No, I'm just a little hungry, that's all."

"Well then you're lucky," Peyton announced as she looped her arm around Brooke's waist and helped her up a few more stairs. "Because I've thought of_ everything_ tonight. Trust me!"

_Have you thought that I'm pregnant?_ The little voice in Brooke's head snapped back. _With Nathan's baby no less? _Brooke ground her teeth together to drown it out. The voice sounded like her, but she swore that sometimes it had a mind of its own. It would say things she would never, ever want to say.

"Last one!" Peyton announced, far more cheerily than she was about ninety-eight percent of the time.

_Heck_, Brooke noted, _she could even pass for a real cheerleader with that tone of voice._ She felt for her friend's hands and grasped them as she stepped onto the top of the stairs. She'd been down the hall to Peyton's room so many times in her life, she really could find her way with the blindfold on, but for now she was content to relish in Peyton's pampering.

"Maybe this is a good thing?" Peyton said rhetorically.

Brooke pinched her lips together skeptically. _How so?_

"We really haven't had that much best friend time lately," Peyton continued, blissfully oblivious to her friend's sarcastic mental quips. "Just a lot of parties and drinking and sleeping around and…truthfully, I miss just hanging out with you one-on-one, you know?"

"Yeah," Brooke muttered beneath her breath.

"You say you agree, but you don't sound like it."

"I just-"

"On the other hand though, if I were the one who'd been hospitalized twice, I probably wouldn't be so hot to agree either. After all, you can't know how bad someone feels until you're in their shoes, right?"

_More than you know_, Brooke's thoughts screamed. But on the outside, she just nodded and attempted to smile, though even for a forced smile it looked particularly bad.

"Okay, sit down!"

Brooke could feel Peyton's arms around her waist, lowering her towards her seat. She frowned as she bent her knees and kept scrunching down, yet she wasn't finding the seat. "How far exactly?"

Peyton smirked and playfully tugged Brooke, causing her to lose her balance and fall backwards. "What do you think?"

Brooke had landed with a bouncy thump. She moved her hands around, feeling an odd synthetic material underneath her fingers. "What the heck…"

"_Surprise!"_

Brooke felt Peyton's fingers wrap around the blindfold and rip it off. She squinted at first, adjusting to the light in the room, and then began to look around and noticed that Peyton was sitting on a red beanbag beside her. Her jaw fell open. "Oh my gosh!" she laughed, surprising herself. She looked down at the royal purple beanbag she was sitting on. "I haven't seen these things in years!"

"I know, right? I was going through some old stuff in the attic and I found them all dusty and gross so I washed them off and thought they'd be perfect for our movie night!" She bobbed her head happily and picked up a handful of videos that were seated between the beanbags. "Speaking of, I got all of your favorites." She shoved the movies into Brooke's fist. "We'll watch them in whatever order you want."

Brooke began to leaf through the movies. The majority of them were classics: _Thirteen Candles_, _The Breakfast Club_, and _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. Before Anna Sawyer had died, Brooke had liked to come over and play and Anna acted as the mother Brooke had never had. But the memories she loved the most were when Peyton would have her sleep over and they'd have a movie night and Anna would share with them – what she referred to as – _the best movies of all time_. Consequently, they'd also become Brooke's favorites.

"So?" Peyton asked eagerly. "What're you up for?"

"_Breakfast at Tiffany's,"_ she smiled as she held out the VHS to the blonde.

"I kind of thought you might say that," Peyton smirked. She picked up the VHS control and pressed the big arrow. The previews immediately began. "So I put it in the player ahead of time," she grinned smugly.

Brooke opened the plastic case and found it empty. She shook her head. "Lucky guess."

"Nah, I just know you too well." Peyton reached over and playfully slapped her friend's arm. "By the way, if you turn to your left, you'll find a lovely selection of chocolate for all your sugar coma needs."

Brooke raised an eyebrow and quickly looked to the floor on her left: Snickers, Milky Ways, Bon-Bons, Malted Milk Balls, Hershey's Kisses, Tootsie Rolls, and just about every other chocolate candy she could think of was laid out on the floor. She snatched up a box of Bon-Bons and popped three into her mouth.

"You're welcome," Peyton grinned. She hopped up and headed for the door.

Brooke creased her eyebrows. "Where're wo gowin'?" she mumbled behind her mouthful of candy.

"Popcorn! You didn't think our movie night would be complete without it, did you?" She motioned lazily towards the screen. "I'll be back before it starts, I promise." She grabbed the edge of the doorway and swung herself out.

Brooke slumped back in her chair and spilled a handful more of Bon-Bons into her palm. She rolled them around in her hand until she felt them becoming soft and just a few more rolls away from melting against her skin. She tossed them into her mouth.

Her stomach gurgled a little, but she ignored it. The Bon-Bons tasted fantastic; she hadn't had them since who knows when. Her stomach gurgled again and she glared. "Quiet down in there!" As she reached into the box for another, she felt a burning stream of stomach acid run up her throat and pool into her mouth. She reflexively gagged tried to push the foul taste back into her stomach where it belonged.

"Great," she scowled, "now I can't even enjoy the simple things in life." She dropped the Bon-Bons back into the collection of chocolate and decided not to try for round two.

"And I didn't forget the extra salt," Peyton announced as she came back into the room. A buttery cologne was wafting from the hot bowl of popcorn in her hand and she triumphantly held the salt shaker in the other.

"Thanks," Brooke replied gloomily. _Though I can't have salt._ She sniffed the popcorn and her stomach growled.

"Here," Peyton said as she grabbed a fistful and shoved it into her mouth.

Brooke grabbed a loose handful and popped one onto her tongue like a pill, though she didn't eat it, instead she just sucked on it.

"Something wrong?"

"No." Brooke dropped the popcorn back into the bowl.

"Yeah." Peyton rolled over onto her side and stared at her friend. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"This has to do with whatever happened at the doctor's, doesn't it?"

"Peyton, I really-"

"Look, I wasn't going to push, but you're scaring the crap out of me Brooke. _What happened?_"

"I'm not dying if that's what you're wondering."

"That's not what I asked."

"I really don't feel like-"

"You _promised_," the blonde insisted. "Cheerleader's Honor, remember?"

Brooke picked up the salt shaker and began to stare at it as if it was an original Da Vinci.

"Brooke!" Peyton leaned forward and grabbed Brooke's wrists. "I'm worried here! Please, let me in!"

Brooke ripped her hands away from Peyton and turned her head away. Her eyes were starting to sting. She turned the salt shaker over and began to empty some of its contents into her buttery hand.

"Brooke…" Peyton crawled off the beanbag and over to the brunette. She gently placed her hand on her friend's arm. "I'm not trying to be a bitch, okay? And I'm not trying to get into your business…I just want to help. And I can't do that if you keep me in the dark."

"I'm not trying to," Brooke whimpered. She curled her fingers around the salt pile in her hand and some of it squeezed out the cracks. "But it's so complicated."

"What could be so complicated that you can't even share with your best friend?"

Brooke held up her fist. At one of Peyton's sleepovers, Anna had explained that some people believed throwing salt over your shoulder was good luck and she'd gotten Brooke and Peyton to do with her, not even caring that they were throwing it right on the living room carpet. She closed her eyes, envisioning the memory, and then thrust her arm back, scattering the majority of the salt over her shoulder, though she could still feel a layer of white grit leftover that had stuck to the butter on her hand.

_It's now or never_, she thought. "You really wanna know?" Brooke hissed with her teeth clenched together like a maximum security steel door. "I'm not dying, Peyton. Far from it! The simple fact is…I'm…I'm pregnant."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**A/N:** Sorry for the later-than-usual update. My Internet connection was being kinda wonky and wouldn't let me on.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twelve**

Brooke blinked. Once, twice, three times. Each time she opened her eyes she still saw Peyton standing across the room. _I just told her I'm pregnant and she's going through her drawer?_ Brooke cleared her throat. "Peyton?"

"Hold on…"

"_Peyton,"_ Brooke spoke more firmly. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for my calendar."

Brooke eased herself up from the beanbag. "Why?"

"Because I need to know if it's April first."

Brooke felt her jaw become lead-like and drop. "Beg your pardon?" she asked as she moved behind her friend.

"Well the last time you told me something like this-"

"This is not a joke!" Brooke cried, grabbing Peyton by the arm and whirling her around so she could look her friend in the face. "I can't even believe you would think that!"

"Oh, like the time you deemed the twenty-third of November 'B. Davis Joke Day' and had me convinced that you'd lost your virginity to Tim?"

"I was thirteen!"

"My point is that it's completely in character for you!"

"Oh my God!" Brooke grasped Peyton by her shoulders and shook her. "Why would I ever joke about something like this?"

Peyton's lips shuddered. "I-I don't know."

"I'm not joking, Peyton." Her eyes glistened. "Not about _this_."

Peyton's lip trembled. "Okay…so you're really…" she shook her head. "But you _can't_ be, Brooke. That's not how we planned things."

"I guess that's the problem with spontaneity."

"What're you gonna do?" Peyton's voice was small, like the squeak of a mouse.

"I don't know yet."

"Well…have you thought about it?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Peyton slid her arms into each other. "A realistic one."

"Of course I've thought about it," Brooke snapped. "It's all I've been thinking about. How can a pregnant fifteen-year-old cheerleader think of anything else?"

"Well…" Peyton curled her fist and pressed her knuckles into the desk, struggling intensely with her friend's revelation. "Have you…made _an appointment_?"

Brooke lowered her head. "Yeah…but-but-" Her voice made a sound like ice hitting water. "I couldn't go through with it." She tried to gauge the blonde's expression, but discovered it to be hidden behind a fog of confusion.

"_Really?"_

Brooke shook her head. "I actually went in and sat down and was waiting for them to call my name, but then I just got to thinking and I…I realized I couldn't." She could feel her cheeks becoming hot with one part embarrassment and two parts shame. "I know it must sound insane, especially for me of all people, but I can't really describe it." She closed her eyes, remembering the simple clarity she'd experienced as she'd burst through the doors, heading back for her V.W. Bug. "It was this moment of clarity and I just _knew_ I couldn't do it."

"An epiphany," Peyton supplied helpfully.

"Yeah," Brooke laughed half heartedly, "one of those."

"So…you're gonna give it up then?"

"I-"

"I mean, you can't keep it. We're in high school-"

"We?" Brooke interrupted.

"What?"

"You said 'we're,' but this is about 'me.'"

"Well," Peyton rolled her eyes, "you don't think I'm going to abandon you do you?" She found Brooke's hand and grasped it tightly. "Friends Forever, right? I'm gonna be there for you and help you, just like you were there for me when my mom died."

Brooke felt her throat close up. Her tear ducts were filling up and she wanted to cover her face, but at the same time she also didn't want to look away from the confident and comforting look on her best friend's face. She felt a tear escape the corner of her eye.

"Hey," Peyton laughed, "don't cry." She flicked the tear away with her thumb. "This shouldn't come as a surprise to you; we've always had each other's backs."

"I know, I just," Brooke sputtered for the right words, "I didn't think you'd be so accepting. I mean…" she shrugged helplessly. "I thought you'd be angry or something."

"Angry? Brooke, come on!" Peyton dug her hand into her fluff of blonde ringlets. "If by some freak accident Nathan had gotten me pregnant, I know I'd need support from the only real friend in my life and that'd be you…would you be angry with me?"

Brooke felt her lungs constrict. _Nathan_, she thought, _a freak accident…ironic choice of words. _She shook her head weakly. "N-no, of-of course not."

Peyton cupped Brooke's hand in her own. "Exactly." She pulled the brunette into an embrace and began to stroke her hair. "I love you, Brooke."

"I love you too, P. Sawyer." Brooke pulled back and shook her head. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Peyton smiled. "Go crazy?"

"I'm already off the insane meter."

"Good point," Peyton chuckled. "It's all going to be okay," she said, almost steady enough to ensure both herself and Brooke. But then her smile faded into a somewhat more serious look. "I do have one question though."

Brooke lifted her eyebrow. "What?" She curled her hand, waiting for the inevitable.

"How did you end up in the hospital?"

_She didn't ask. She didn't ask?_ Brooke blinked. "How did I-"

"Why did you faint? I don't know a lot about pregnancy, Brooke, but I'm pretty sure fainting isn't a normal symptom."

"Uh…" Brooke leaned against the wall. "Complication."

"That doesn't sound good-"

"No! It's not bad, it's just, it means I have to take it easy. Basically high blood pressure. I just-" Her voice trailed off._ I miscarried, that's what I did. _"I got overworked with the cheer."

"Figures," Peyton scowled playfully. "Why can't you just have normal vomiting like everyone else? Brooke Davis, ladies and gentlemen, our resident Drama Queen!" she motioned her hand dramatically towards Brooke.

"Yeah," Brooke mumbled. "That's me." She dropped her head. "I can't be on the squad anymore though, at least not if I go through with continuing the pregnancy."

Peyton shook her head. "But-"

"I'm sorry."

Peyton looked to her left, where a framed photograph of her and Brooke at the age of nine were was seated on her dresser. "I still can't wrap my head around this one. It seems so surreal. I kind of always thought I'd be the first one to have a kid…way, way, way, waaaay down the road, you know?"

"Tell me about it."

"Of course…" Peyton threaded her fingers together. "Brooke?"

"Hmm?"

"Who is it?"

"Who's who?"

"Who's the father?"

Brooke felt her blood run as thick as old maple syrup. A lump formed in her throat and began to grow until it weighed in her stomach, making her feel sick and knotted up like a pretzel. "I-I-I-"

Peyton exhaled softly. Her eyes produced a welcoming warmth that could heat New York in the dead of winter. "I was afraid of that," she whispered.

"A-afraid of wh-what?" Brooke stuttered. _Does she know? Did Nathan tell her he suspects that it's his?_

"That you might not know," the blonde clarified. "But that's okay," she reasoned, "it's not like it really matters anyway. Who needs some stupid horny guy when you have your best friend instead, right?"

_Best friend_, Brooke thought tartly, _yeah…_ "Right."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N:** Another chapter with some Nathan flavor. I really like writing these ones, actually. I really think the pre-Haley Nathan was much more complex than the show made him out to be. I think this chapter is one of, if not the longest, that I've written for this story as well.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirteen**

Nathan rotated his leather wallet in his hand as he was walking. Dan had given him a hundred before he'd left for school and warned him that his mother was coming home for the weekend. Of course that meant Dan was planning an extravagant dinner in only the way Dan could, and he wanted Nathan to look nice and well taken care of for Deb's return, so it was Nathan's job to go pick out a brand new outfit to show off.

"I wish my pop doled out money like that," Tim babbled as he walked beside Nathan. He rolled his eyes behind his lids. "Instead he just wants to take my mom out for these romantic dinners all the time. It's disgusting!"

"Yeah," Nathan muttered. It was an auto-response that he'd programmed for people like Tim; the ditzy and dimwitted ones who he hung out because they belonged in his circles, but he couldn't give a damn about even if he pushed himself to the edge trying.

Honestly, he wished he was still small enough to just run under the clothes rack and hide like he used to do when he was little, whenever him and his mother went new school shopping. It had been fun then, like a game of hide and seek. He'd done it once with Dan, but not for fun, but because he'd despised being with the man so much that he just needed to get away. Of course when he'd emerged after Dan had embarrassingly called his name over the intercom, Dan had taken a belt to his butt and he had hurt for a week afterwards. Consequently, he had not been in a clothing rack since.

"Oh man!" Tim gushed, pointing towards a group of girls seated at the food court. He nudged Nathan's arm. "Look at those!"

Nathan glanced up. The girls – three of them – were staring his and Tim's way. Under his gaze, he noticed one blush and turn away. He figured they were probably looking at him more than Tim, but he wasn't going to say anything. The girls weren't of interest to him anyway. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the girls point and whisper to the one who had blushed.

"I think they're talking about us," Tim surmised. He grinned goofily, something Nathan had come to associate with the fact that Tim would be suggesting a half assed plan any minute. "Let's go over there. I bet we could totally get 'em in the sack," he nodded excitedly.

"I don't feel like it."

"But they're _hot!_"

Nate grunted. "I have a girlfriend."

Tim began to laugh so hard that Nathan thought he might split his stomach before he stopped. "That's a good one, man." He slugged Nathan's arm. "But _really_," he persisted, "let's go."

He wrapped his fingers around the square of black leather in his hand. "Why don't _you_ go?" he suggested, attempting to filter the contempt from his voice. "I really have to get that new outfit," he explained. "You know how my dad is."

Tim shrugged. "Yeah," he agreed, "kind of a hard ass."

_I guess you don't_, Nathan mentally corrected. "I'll catch up with you later." He flipped his wallet into the air like a basketball and caught it again.

"Cool," was the distracted response. Tim was already walking towards the girls, his thoughts overtaken by his hormones.

Nathan ducked into the nearest isle and weaved through several more, careful to make a complicated path just in case – for some freak reason – Tim were to change his mind and try to follow him. He was so relieved to be rid of the guy. The truth was, he'd wanted to be alone today anyway, he'd intended to use his shopping time as personal thinking time, but Tim had tagged along and Nathan had been too exhausted to argue.

Exhausted, of course, because he'd been too preoccupied with one woman all week, or perhaps more accurately, the _lack_ of one woman. Out of six periods, there was only one that he shared with Brooke Davis, and that was Biology. She set in the back row, behind him, and she was always tapping him on the shoulder, asking him to pass along her notes to Peyton, who sat in the row in front of him. This week had been oddly quiet, because he kept expecting to be tapped on the shoulder, only to remember that Brooke's seat was as empty as his father's heart.

He had very seriously considered asking Peyton what was going on with her, but he didn't want to act too out of character. He'd never truly asked about Brooke before, but then again, before she'd always been home because she'd been drug to the point of no return, not because she'd been bleeding in the school gym. Nevertheless, he'd resisted the urge to ask where she was, even though her lack of presence both in second period and during practice was driving him to the brink.

Nathan couldn't get what he'd heard out of his head. _Miscarriage._ It was like some poisonous nightmare, constantly worming through his thoughts, both in the waking hours and while he slept. And Brooke's reaction when he'd confronted her had only made things worse. He'd very seriously not considered asking her that morning, but as he thought back on their talk in front of his house, when she'd told him she wanted to talk to him about what had happened between them, he considered that maybe he had jumped the gun.

It was odd, he'd thought at the time, that she'd take the time to bring it up to him anyway, but considering that he and Peyton had just hooked up again, he'd blew off the thought, figuring that he didn't want their secret getting out anymore than he did. But in retrospect, she'd seemed off that day. She hadn't been her usual cheery self, or even the devious and secretive type he knew she could be when she was trying to hide something, but she'd seemed as though she genuinely had something important to say.

_Or maybe I'm just reading too much into it?_ Nathan scratched the side of his head. _Maybe I'm just remembering her how I want to remember her; making things up that never actually happened._ He glanced down at his hands, one with his wallet and one without. _But on the other hand, maybe I'm not crazy. What if she did come to tell me that she was pregnant?_

He realized it had happened shortly after she'd been hospitalized the first time. _If she found out she was pregnant then, it would make sense._ Nate squeezed his wallet again, almost as if it were one of the stress balls his mother liked to use on her rare visits home. "Ugh!" he sputtered, suddenly feeling something slam into his lower leg. He looked down to see a small ball on the ground in front of him; the child's lip was quivering and he was two and a half seconds away from bursting into tears. "Hey-"

"Mommy!" the boy wailed. His face was suddenly the color of tomato soup.

"Hey," Nathan said gently, suddenly feeling sorry for the kid. He could see a small spot of blood on the boy's lip and he guessed the boy had bit it, most likely when he ran into him. He began to squat down when a middle aged woman came running up.

"Ross," she soothed, dropping to her knees to tend to her son. "Oh, sweetie, what happened?" she collected the boy into her arms and hugged him.

"I think he bit his lip," Nathan explained. He smiled softly. "He just ran into me-"

"Huh?" The woman lifted her head. "He…oh, I'm so sorry!" she said, having not realized Nathan was even there until he'd spoken. "He never watches where he's going." She helped her son to his feet. "You should apologize to…" She glanced at Nathan again.

"Nate," he smiled.

"Mr. Nate."

The boy sniffled and wiped his snotty nose against his bare arm. "Sorry Mr. Nate."

Nathan nodded. "It's okay."

"Come on," the mother said, tugging her son along. "You need to be more careful in the store. No running like a monkey."

Nathan rotated his wallet again as he watched the boy leave. It surprised him that he'd been so nice to the kid. That wasn't him, at least, not the him as of late. But something about the child had been a little like déjà vu, reminding Nathan of himself at that age.

It was then that Nathan realized he was standing in the isle between the children's clothing. To his right were the boys' clothes and beside them, were the girls' clothes. To his left, however, was the baby section, where clothing for girls and boys alike were everywhere. He paused, considering the possibilities. He could just leave, continue on to the men's clothes as he was supposed to, but something was drawing him towards the infant section.

Nathan took a step inside. He stopped at a rack containing onesies of all sorts and selected the one nearest to him: it was yellow, and when he picked it up, he noticed it had a fuzzy teddy bear on the front. The irony was that the teddy bear was dribbling a fuzzy basketball. Nathan ran his thumb over the soft fabric used to create the bear and the basketball.

_This is stupid_, his rational side reminded him. _Miscarriage, remember? Brooke's not having a baby. Besides…she never even told you if it was yours or not._ Somehow, he couldn't find the will to put the onesie down though. _That's not true,_ an opposing voice inside his head replied, "_we'll require a few tests to confirm," don't you remember?_

His jaw clenched like an alligator's. The doctor's words were comforting and terrifying at the same time. If she hadn't miscarried, and if the baby's was his as it could very possibly be, he had no idea what that meant for him. _I saw her bleeding though_, he reminded himself. _But that doesn't mean it's a done deal._

Nathan closed his eyes and leaned against the onesie rack. He thought of his mother: she had gotten pregnant right at the beginning of college and it had changed her life forever. Then he thought of Karen Roe. He usually didn't think of her, she was the _other woman_ so to speak, the woman his father had gotten pregnant at the end of high school, just three months before his own mother. Everyone always told him he was the spitting image of his father: looks, talent, personality…and now, just like Dan, he may have gotten a girl pregnant in high school as well.

_She kind of even looks like Karen a little bit_, Nathan realized, as he remembered a picture of the brunette from his father's old senior high school yearbook. _And Peyton kind of looks like my mom. That figures._ He opened his eyes again and looked at the basketball playing bear. "I could knock Peyton up, marry her, and be Dan two point o."

Even sarcastically speaking, the thought made him feel nauseas inside. He thought many times about how much he didn't want to be like Dan Scott. He wanted desperately to be out of the man's shadow, and now, it seemed, he could be following _exactly_ in his footsteps.

As if to rub it in, his cell phone began to ring that special tone he'd picked out: Evanescence's _Haunted_. It was especially for his father. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and stared at the number blinking on the LCD screen. It was his home phone number. He gripped the sides of the cell and clicked a button on the side of his phone, the Ignore button, effectively silencing the ring.

He was sure Dan just wanted to know the progress of his trip and Nathan really had no desire to discuss that or anything else with him. Instead, he tucked the yellow onesie under his arm and headed for the checkout. He could already hear Dan's thunderous tone in his ears, berating him about not following instructions, but he could deal with that. _I've got more important things to deal with anyway_, he thought. _I need to go find Brooke._

Luckily enough, nobody was at the register when Nathan arrived. He laid the onesie on the counter and the older woman behind it smiled as she began to ring up the purchase.

"That's a cute one," she noted as she swiped the tag.

"Yeah."

The woman pressed something into the register and slipped the onesie into a bag. "Baby gift?" she asked.

"You could say that."

"Hmm." Her eyes glanced across the screen on her register. "Five-eighty-two."

Nathan furrowed his brow. "Really?"

The woman smiled warmly. "Fifteen percent discount," she explained.

Nathan opened his wallet and spied the hundred. He flicked passed it and pulled out a ten dollar bill and slid it across the counter. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she spoke knowingly while she handed him his change and the bag. "And good luck."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N:** Ack. Sorry again. We've been having some crazy rain and thunder storms here, so the power hasn't been totally reliable, hence the reason this chapter has been slow in getting out.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Fourteen**

"Brooke! Brooke, open up! I know you're in there, I saw your curtains move! Let me in!" The reverberation of his knuckles against her front door caused the pictures on the wall to rattle downstairs.

Brooke was pressed against her wall, just next to her window, listening to Nathan's thunderous rapture. It seemed more ominous coming through the heater vent. She had made the mistake of stealing a peek from her curtains and had been caught, so she'd been afraid to move, fearing that he'd next accuse her of seeing her shadow against the curtains.

"Why is he even here?" she wondered aloud. Though inside, she knew exactly why. It was the same reason she'd skipped second period all week and the same reason she'd avoided breaking the news to the squad that she'd be resigning at captain.

Her hand found its way to her stomach. Ever since Nathan had cornered her in the hospital that day, she'd been terrified to face him. For one thing, she didn't know why he'd asked in the first place: he was Nathan Scott, after all, and that was definitely not a Nathan Scott thing to do. Especially when he had so much he was riding on: a future, potential, basketball scholarships; it was Dan Scott all over again. Secondly, and more importantly, he had made a point to confront her about it. That scared her the most, because it had the potential to mean that he actually _cared_.

With her decision to keep the baby, Nathan couldn't be a factor. It was most important that he didn't know. _He can't be involved_, she reasoned. _It would interfere with Peyton and I, and there's no way in hell I'm jeopardizing that. On the other hand, I can't just keep avoiding him forever. It's going to become apparently obviously within the next couple months._

Brooke took a step forward. "I'll just do it," she muttered to herself. "I'll just open the door and talk to him face-to-face…maybe I can't ignore him forever, but that doesn't mean I have to be honest with him. I can just tell him I don't know who the baby's father is."

She clasped her hands together and walked out of her room. "That's good," she told herself in an overly chipper voice. "That's fine. He wouldn't be interested anymore if I just said it wasn't his…and maybe he's not really interested anyway. Maybe he's afraid that if it is his, I'm going to tell Peyton about us? Maybe _that's_ why he's so insistent about know?" She gripped the stair rail as she glided down the steps. "That's got to be why."

"Brooke!"

Her fingers wrapped around the door knob and twisted it. The door practically burst open and she had to jump back. "Nathan!" she screeched.

"_Finally!"_ His eyes were heavy; burdened. "We need to talk."

"We certainly do," she growled. "I was in the middle of studying."

Nathan scoffed. "Right, Brooke. Good one. You don't study…and even if you did, it would not have taken that long to open the door. You," he pointed, "have been avoiding me all week."

"I've been sick." She lied.

"Sick?" Nathan quirked his left eyebrow. "As in, what? Morning sickness?"

The color blanched from her face. "Why would you say that?"

"Because you never did answer me last week in the hospital," he replied, keeping his tone even and directed.

Brooke folded her arms across her flat stomach. "Why do you want to know so badly?" she queried. "What's it to you? So what if I _did_ have a miscarriage?"

"So you did then?" The rigidness in Nathan's eyes softened. "I-"

The way the steel edged shine in his eyes seemed to vanish made Brooke feel uneasy, almost queasy. It was like she'd let him down somehow. "I didn't say that," she corrected softly.

"So…" Nathan's eyes dropped to Brooke's abdomen, where her arms were knitted. "You _didn't?_"

"I really don't think I'm comfortable with this line of questioning."

"I just want a straight answer, Brooke!"

"And I want to know your motivations! Are you afraid that if I was pregnant – and _if_ it was yours – that I'd somehow blackmail? Turn you into your father?"

"No-"

"That maybe you'd have to trade in your Prized Blonde Cheerleader for the School Slut?"

"No!"

"Then _what!_"

Nathan balled his fists. His face was flushing, slowly turning the shade of a tomato, he then he began to tip towards her. For a moment Brooke thought he was going to grab her, shake her maybe, but then he snatched the zipper on his letterman jacket and yanked it down halfway. His hand plunged into the inner part of his jacket and he pulled a wadded up piece of cloth out and threw it at her.

Brooke tensed and reflexively threw up her hands to shield her face. She felt the projectile graze her arm and heard it land somewhere behind her. She cringed as she peeked out from between her fingers. "What the hell!" she screamed. Her eyes darted behind her to see what he'd thrown, and to her shock, it looked like an infant's outfit.

Nathan pressed his hand to his head. "Brooke-"

"Go."

"I'm sorry!"

"Leave!"

"This isn't the hospital," he said, the volume of his voice tinkering again. "I'm not going to leave until you give me answers!"

Brooke bent down and grabbed the onesie. She began to examine it, noticing the fuzzy bear and basketball on the front. "Why do you have this?" she asked, momentarily forgetting her anger as she rubbed the fabric.

"I thought that if you were still pregnant-"

"_Why?"_ she interrupted. She turned to him, her eyes suddenly glazed with liquid emotion. "I don't understand," she whispered, "this isn't something you would do."

"Brooke, there was something you'd told me that you wanted to talk to me about…I think it was-" he motioned to the onesie "-that."

"You deduced that from one short conversation in front of your house?"

"I'm not as dumb as everyone thinks I am," Nathan replied, his voice almost in a whisper. "I can put two and two together. It was after you were in the hospital the first time. And then you were bleeding and the doctor said maybe it was a miscarriage…and the timing, you and mean, it all fits." He looked down. "Seven weeks and one day ago."

"You…you counted?"

"No, I remembered."

"So what? I sleep with a lot of guys."

"But I've been the only one you've been avoiding."

Brooke closed her eyes. "Nathan-"

"Just tell me. I need to know." Without warning, he placed his hand over hers. _"Please?"_

Brooke's skin shuddered at his touch. "Even if it was yours, it couldn't change anything."

"Why?"

"Because of Peyton," a tear wormed its way out of the corner of her closed eye. "She's my best friend, Nate. I couldn't give her up like that. Not now, not ever."

"So…it _is_ mine?"

"I didn't plan on telling you, but if you have to know…" she nodded. "But _please, please,_ don't say anything!"

"Does Peyton know? I mean…about it in general?"

"She knows, but she thinks I don't know who the sperm donor is."

"And what do you plan to do?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Would it sound insane if I said I wanted to keep it?"

Nathan's eyes shifted to the onesie in her hand. "Would it sound insane if I said I wanted to help you keep it?"

That did it, and her tear ducts finally exploded. Two streams began to run down the sides of her face. "You can't," she whimpered, "Peyton would know-"

"If I promised not to say a word to Peyton, will you let me be involved? With as much as possible without it being obvious?"

"I don't get it," she whispered. "Why would you want to take on this burden when I'm giving you the easiest out?"

Nathan glanced at the basketball dribbling teddy bear. "I don't know," he spoke sarcastically. "Why do you want to take on this burden when you could have a way out?"

"I don't want to be my mother," she replied instantly.

"And I don't want to be my father." He lifted his fingers to her face and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "See, I told you we were too much alike."

"So where do we go from here?"

Nathan rubbed his thumb over the fuzzy teddy bear on the onesie. "I don't know," he replied earnestly, his voice even laced with an unfamiliar fear, "but I'd like to find out."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N:** Okay, mostly this time it was my bad. But just for the record, I did try to update for nearly half the day yesterday and stupid FFN said that the Document Manager was down and to check out in a few minutes. So an entire half a day later, here I am. _Finally._ But lucky for you all, I feel bad enough that I'm prepared to give you two chapters. (P.S. Agh! This marks the sixth time I've tried to upload this morning! I don't know what they did to the system, but it keeps cutting off part of my documents and uploading things it shouldn't.)

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Fifteen**

He stabbed the slice of roasted chicken with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth, all the while never taking his eyes off of his plate. Unfortunately, it was almost empty, only containing a few slivers of chicken and some stewed tomatoes. Nathan speared one of the tomatoes and stuffed it between his lips as he swallowed his bite of chicken.

"Is something wrong, Nate?"

Nathan angled his head to the side, glancing upward and conveniently avoiding the arsenal of daggers he knew his father was ready to throw at him as soon as they shared looks. "No," he muttered after swallowing his bite of tomato. "Why?"

Deb touched the lightly curled end of her just-above-shoulder length blonde hair as if she were struggling with her own confidence. "Nothing…" she eyed her husband warily, who was busily impaling his own food with a fork. "You just seem so…_quiet_ tonight."

"Busy week."

"Oh?" Deb's tone was slightly lighter as she spoke. "What happened?" she asked with earnest curiosity.

Nathan recoiled internally. _Teenage pregnancy is not exactly dinner talk_, he thought as he stuffed another stewed tomato into his mouth. He chewed while his mother watched him anxiously and then he swallowed and sighed. "Basketball," he explained in only a word.

Deb's face fell again. "Oh." This time, the word wasn't so light and airy.

Nathan looked back down at his plate. Something in his gut twisted, making him feel a little sick. Basketball was a sore subject for his mother. It was something that she viewed him and his father as sharing; something that she wasn't allowed to participate in. He knew that was the one answer he could get away with that would deter her from her line of questioning, yet at the same time, he hated the left out and disappointed look on her face that he'd received in return.

"Did you and Peyton work things out?" she asked, having known that the last time she'd been home from work, her son and his girlfriend had become her son and his ex.

"Yeah," he answered between chews. The answer made the twist in his stomach pull a little tighter. _Of all the things to bring up_, he thought sourly. "We got back together about three weeks ago or something."

"That's good," Deb smiled. She took a sip of her white zinfandel and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a burgundy colored cloth napkin. "I'm really glad. Peyton's always seemed like such a nice girl."

"Yeah."

"Is she still drawing?"

"Always."

Deb nodded thoughtfully. "Seems like-" A clatter of silverware caused her jaw to stop mid-sentence. She looked over at the source of the noise and saw Dan standing up and collecting his plate and wine glass. She bit her lip as he stomped out of the room and closed her eyes, waiting until she heard the telltale slam of their bedroom door. She exhaled loudly. "What's really going on, Nathan?"

"I told you-"

"You didn't tell me anything," she cut in, her voice edged with steel. "When I come home, I expect long awkward dinners with little conversation, but this is different. You and your father have been avoiding eye contact all night and now he's stomping off to fume. _What happened?_"

Nathan threw up his hands. His plate was finally clean anyway, except for an oddly shaped half dollar sized pool of light red juice leftover from his stewed tomatoes. "He's just pissed because I didn't get the new clothes he wanted me to get for tonight." He rolled his eyes. "That's always how it works, haven't you noticed? He wants the illusion that we're getting along and that he actually cares enough to spoil me."

Deb fingered her burgundy napkin. "I didn't realize-" she attempted.

"Yeah," Nathan interrupted bitterly. "Because you're never around enough to realize. You just gave up one day and decided to leave me here with him."

"Nathan!" She stood up abruptly and threw her napkin to the table. "You're acting like I chose to abandon you!"

"You left me with _him_," he reiterated, jabbing his finger towards the hallway. He shoved his chair back and stood up. "You know what," he spat, "never mind. Just…whatever. Spend the night and go back to your job, it's what you're good at." He stomped out of the dining room and all the way down to his bedroom, where he slammed the door. He didn't bother to lock it, because after what he'd said to his mother, he assumed she'd end up clearing the table and leaving that night.

Nathan dropped onto the red comforter on his bed and stuffed his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The sad thing was, since his revelation with Brooke earlier in the week, he'd actually looked forward to his mother coming home for the weekend. He wasn't sure _why_, since he couldn't tell her about Brooke – not that she would've been happy about her son knocking up a girl in high school anyway – but some part of him had still _wanted_ her to come home…and it had been a feeling he'd been numb to for quite some time.

He'd even stayed up a couple nights, imagining all the different scenarios that could happened when she was home. He'd imagined telling her about Brooke and the baby, he'd imagined a hundred different reactions, and he'd imagined the different kinds of advice she'd give him, after having been a teenage parent herself. He closed his eyes, almost ready to drift back into his imagination again when a supple knock at the door prompted him to look up.

"Nathan?"

Nathan opened his eyes to see his door handle turning. He sat up quickly as his mother entered. "Now you're just walking into my room!" he yelled instinctively.

Deb winced at his mincing tone. She clutched the door handle. "I think we need to talk," she said calmly.

"I can't imagine what about." He could see the hurt in her eyes and it was like a poison in his gut, yet somehow he couldn't stop the fountain of cruel words spewing from his mouth. _It's a strange thing_, he realized, _to know you're being an asshole, yet you can't stop yourself._

She leaned against the door to close it. "You're right," she replied softly. "I have neglected you."

Nathan blinked. "What?"

"I've avoided your father so much over these last few years and it never even occurred to me that I was also be taking it out on you. That's my fault and I'm sorry."

"You don't need to-"

"Yes, _I do_." She motioned her hand. "You made that clear just a few minutes ago. And I want you to know that things are going to change around here."

_Yeah they are, but not the way you think_, Nathan mentally replied. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…I'm going to be home more."

Nathan couldn't help but laugh. "You've said that before."

"I know, but I mean it this time. I know you have no reason to trust me, so that's why I intend to show you instead of just tell you." She twisted the door handle and the door popped open. "Good night, Nate."

"Mom, _wait_."

Deb turned around curiously. "Yeah?" she asked expectantly.

"I uh…" Nathan ran his fingers through his hair, not sure what he wanted to say anymore. "Can I ask you a question?"

"This sounds important," she observed, once again closing the door. "You can always ask me anything."

Nathan looked down at his bedspread. "When you first found out you were pregnant, what was your reaction?"

Deb looked taken aback. "Uh…" she moved across the room and sat down on the edge of her son's bed. "Probably what any teenager feels when they find out they've just created another life: _fear_." Her forehead puckered. "Why are you asking?"

"I was just…curious." It was only a half lie.

Deb scratched the back of her neck, a habit she seemed to have picked up whenever she got nervous. "No," she shook her head, "there's something else."

"How would you know?" he shot back. The defense walls were sliding back into place as he spoke.

"Because you're my son and I've known you you're entire life…and I just know that there's something else bothering you." She turned her head away. "Besides, you've never wanted to talk to me before…at least not in a long time, so I know it must be important." Her eyes flickered slightly in the dimness of Nathan's lamp. "Wait a minute, Nathan-"

_"Deb!"_

Deb's and Nathan's heads snapped up at precisely the same moment. Deb adjusted her jaw. "Nathan-"

"Deb!"

"You should probably go find out what he wants," Nathan replied smoothly, as if he hadn't noticed what she was starting to say just moments before the interruption. "Otherwise he'll probably be in here any minute and I'd really rather not have to deal with that tonight."

"Deb!" Dan's voice was growing more aggravated with each yell. The tension, even from down the hallway, could be felt like static electricity in the room.

"We're not done talking," she warned. Her eyes locked onto Nathan's as she opened the door and left.

As the lock clicked into place, Nathan released a pent up breath. He could see the pieces coming together in his mother's eyes and it wasn't a good thing. She was smart; good at mysteries. _I should've known better than to ask her_, he berated himself. _Idiot!_ He leaned over to turn off the light and accidentally ran his fingers over the bulb.

"Ah!" he yanked his hand back and the lamp fell to the ground with a thud, causing the room to go black. In the darkness, he moved his burnt finger to his mouth and licked the burn, only succeeding in relieving a miniscule dose of pain. _On the bright side_, he thought ironically, _at least she doesn't have proof of anything._

Nathan sunk down into his pillow and stared up into the dark of his ceiling. He imagined he was in the middle of a black hole, far away from all his problems and dilemmas, far away from his parents and the pressure. He imagined it was just him. And then he closed his eyes, out like the light on his floor.

In his dreams, a girl began to materialize from the blackness. Tall, curvy in all the right places, with big green eyes, and Goldilocks curls. He found himself moving to her and kissing her feverishly as he slid one hand up her shirt and the other began to simultaneously unbutton her denim mini skirt. But just as she was reaching for the zipper on his jeans, a sound entered the void: screaming; the sound of a lonely newborn. In his dreams, he found himself pushing Peyton Sawyer away and she faded into the darkness. He began to run as he was outrunning someone on the court just seconds before the buzzer. And he began to yell her name.

_"Brooke!"_


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**A/N:** Okay, since as everyone who has ever tried to figure out a coherent version of the _One Tree Hill _timeline would know, it's completely impossible. (i.e. Jamie was born in June during the gang's graduation day, yet somehow he has his birthday in the middle of the school year in season five? And although Keith and Jimmy Edwards were killed the same day, their months of death aren't even the same?) Yeah, so, while I am trying to keep my story in line with season one's continuity as much as possible, I'll also be following my own timeline just to keep things coherent. So since the sex tape took was revealed senior year and was supposed to have taken place two years earlier, by my calculation, that would mean the sex tape was made sometime during sophomore year. And I'll probably get a little more detailed with the timeline as I go along.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Brooke, come on, open up."

"No." Brooke replied in a pouty, childish voice. She glanced briefly at wide handicapped bathroom stall door and could see a pair of skinny bare white legs connected to a pair of feet in silver strappy heels and painted black toenails. She proceeded to cover her head with her hands.

"Don't make me crawl under this door!" Peyton's voice yelled. One of the scrawny legs stomped on the tile in annoyance.

"I don't wanna go out there," Brooke whined. "Did you not see the looks I was getting? And that was just the JV Cheer Squad! Once I enter that hallway, I'm gonna be getting all those and worse from the entire school!"

"It won't be _that_ bad-"

"Peyton," Brooke snapped, "they're junior cheerleaders…their gossip can outrun a wildfire."

"Okay," Peyton grunted, "that may be true but-"

"I am _not_ going out there."

"Fine. Then I'm coming_ in_ there!"

Brooke's jaw dropped when she saw Peyton's knees drop to the ground and then saw her best friend's hands groping the tile of the bathroom floor. "You're insane!" she yelped. She could hear the sound of the bathroom door opening, followed by the telltale sound of chatty Freshmen and clicking heels. The noise abruptly stopped and so did Peyton's attempt to get under the stall.

"Excuse me," Peyton's voice snarled, giving Brooke the mental image of an angry bear. _"Do you mind?"_

Brooke clasped her hand to her nose, stifling a snort as she listened to grunts and then the sound of heels, followed by the slam of the bathroom door. Then she watched Peyton push her blonde curls under the stall door and slide into the stall. She shivered as she watched Peyton run her black fingernails through her hair to push it out of her face. "Ewe!" she exclaimed. "Your hands are all germ infested!"

"Thanks to you."

Brooke shoved her hand into the pursed clutched to her chest and pulled out a bottle of pink hand sanitizer. "Here." When Peyton held up her hands, she shook her head. "Oh no, you're not touching the bottle, Goldilocks. Not with _those_ hands. Open 'em up."

Peyton rolled her hands and pressed her hands together, forming a bowl shape. She watched as the pink gel squeezed out of the bottle and fell like cold jelly into her hands, then she noticed something odd. "Is that…glitter?"

"Yeah." Brooke capped the hand sanitizer and waved the reflective label in front of Peyton's face as her friend rubbed her hands together. "Glitter Berry. It smells great – if not a little alcoholic – and it leaves your hands with a glittery sheen. It's like the perfect sanitizer."

"How much did that set you back?"

"Dunno, don't care. It was charged to my dad's credit card, I found it online so I just bought an entire crate full."

"A huh," Peyton replied as she stared down at her new sparkling fingers. The smell of rubbing alcohol and wild berries now filled the handicapped stall. "It's a little overpowering," she coughed as she waved her hand to clear away the offending aroma.

"You get used to-" She suddenly clutched her stomach and grabbed the bare toilet seat. Her knuckles turned white as she plunged forward and began to retch.

"Oh, honey!" Peyton whispered, immediately behind her friend. She grabbed Brooke's long dark brown tresses and fisted them while Brooke vomited, as she'd done many times over the years that they'd known each other. "I've got ya," she spoke as Brooke finished and she wisely waited, allowing Brooke to vomit once more before she kicked the toilet handle with her shoe.

Brooke scowled and wiped her mouth against the shoulder of her shirt. "That has never happened before!" she yelled, staring down at the bottle of sanitizer that had fallen from her hands when she'd grabbed the toilet seat. She reached for it, but Peyton promptly kicked it away. "Hey!"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Peyton replied kindly. "It made you sick once already."

"I don't get it-"

"Pregnancy? Hello! Sensitivity to smell. Didn't you pay attention in Sex Ed?"

"Yeah…to the _boys_."

"Figures," Peyton rolled her eyes. "Well…welcome to morning sickness. Phase one."

Brooke grit her teeth. "I just grabbed the icky toilet seat without even one of those tissue paper thingies," she complained. "I need to rid my hands of the infections!"

Peyton looped her arm under Brooke's and hauled her to her feet. "Come on, we'll go wash…unless you've got another upchuck in you."

"Well I've got something in me, but it's definitely not a Chuck. What a horrible name! It sounds like-" She held her hands under the soap dispenser while Peyton pressed it twice for her, then she slid her hands under the sink, the motion detector blinked, and the cold water began to spray onto her fingers.

"Brooke!"

"Hrmph." She grunted as she rubbed her hands together with vigor.

"So I need to talk to you," Peyton said suddenly. She folded her arms and leaned against the edge of the sink. "I think something's up with Nathan."

Brooke felt the hairs along her spine stick up. Her hands stopped moving underneath the water. "R-really?" she stuttered.

"He's just been acting so…weird. For the last two weeks."

"Oh." Brooke watched as the water turned off due to her lack of movement. She pulled her hands out of the sink and moved to the paper towel dispenser, where she began to pull out about ten more paper towels than she actually needed. All the while, she avoided Peyton's worried gaze. "Weird how?" she inquired. "Weird good or weird bad?"

"Weird…neutral." Peyton shrugged. "I stopped over at his house yesterday to surprise him before school and I swear I caught him looking at the jobs section of the morning paper."

"Jobs?"

"Yeah. Strange, right? It's not like he even needs one. Not with the money his mom makes and all."

"Maybe it's for school?" Brooke suggested in a whisper. "You know, like some assignment or something."

"But speaking of his mom," Peyton continued as if Brooke hadn't interrupted, "maybe _that's_ it." She began to nod to herself, suddenly pushing off the sink and nodding. "She usually drops by for the weekend and heads back to work, but she's been around and he's been acting weird. That's gotta be it, don'tcha think?"

Brooke nodded as she rubbed her wad of paper towels along her hands. "Yeah," she shrugged weakly, "it's gotta be."

"I wonder why she's around anyway," Peyton wondered aloud. She began to pick at the black polish on her fingernails as she pondered. "As long as I've known him, she's always been your classic workaholic. Probably mostly due to her ass of a husband."

"Probably."

Peyton took a few steps towards the bathroom door. "Do you think I should confront him about it?" When Brooke merely shrugged in response, Peyton sighed. She grasped the handle of the door "You ready to break out now?"

"Of the school?" Brooke inquired with a hopeful smile, attempting to change the subject away from Nathan.

"I think you've missed enough class the past couple weeks."

Brooke stuck out her lip as the bell rang. Her face fell. "Oh no!" she groaned. "How about just one more day?" She pressed her newly washed hands together as if she were praying.

Peyton yanked open the door and shoved Brooke out. "Time to face the music."

Brooke stumbled into the hallway, which was crowded with people passing onto their next classes. She shrank as she saw a couple of JV cheerleaders down the hallway, whispering to one another between glances at her. She closed her eyes and pressed herself to the wall. "Peyton…" she whispered in seriousness. "I don't want to do this."

Peyton slid her hand into Brooke's, locking them together like a deadbolt. "You don't want to, but you will. And I'm right here with you. Don't forget that."

Brooke squeezed her hand and took away from the wall. She felt like bolting right back into the bathroom as more and head heads turned her way, but instead she gripped to Peyton more tightly. "I guess this is really goodbye to being captain of the varsity squad next year, isn't it?" she whispered under her breath, attempting to make herself sound joking, though all the while feeling sick inside.

As determined as she was to keep her baby, she still couldn't help the fact the fact that ever since middle school, she'd dreamed of becoming cheer captain of the varsity squad during her junior and senior years. And just last year, when she was under the tutelage of Morgan Finley – the Queen Bitch of Tree Hill High and the resident Squad Captain – it had seemed like an absolute reality.

Now, at ten weeks pregnant with the entire school just minutes away from knowing her secret, she felt completely exposed, nude in front of all of her peers and teachers in a way she'd never experienced before. And worst of all, everything that had seemed set in stone prior to that moment had been replaced with goosing uncertainty.

"We shouldn't have told them," she whispered.

"You couldn't keep missing cheer practice with no explanation," Peyton replied in an equally low voice. "They were going to find out sooner or later."

"In retrospect, later seems better."

"This is just the awkward phase. It'll pass, I promise."

"Don't promise things you can't keep, Peyton."

"Brooke, you knew the school was going to talk."

"Yeah, well…I guess I just didn't think long enough about how bad it was going to hurt when they did." As they made their way down the hall, she spotted several of the basketball players rounding the corner and froze cold in her steps when Nathan emerged from them. They locked eyes as a girl in the hallway leaned into one of the guys near Nathan and whispered something.

Brooke watched as Nathan's teammate slugged him in the arm and said something into his ear, briefly stealing his eyes away from Brooke, and then the player nodded and they both looked right at her. She felt her face grow blister with embarrassment and quickly wrenched her hand away from Peyton's before flying down the hallway and out the doors, vaguely hearing Peyton scream for her as she vanished.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**A/N:** I just noticed that this story has officially reached 101 reviews! I'm so ecstatic! So to show my appreciation for all of your feedback, I'm giving you another chapter right now to celebrate the awesomeness of topping the 100 mark! Thank you!!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Seventeen**

"…with how trampy _she_ is? You _knew_ it was bound to happen sometime!"

"I wonder if she'll get an abortion?"

"I heard she's already had an abortion."

"I thought she's had multiple abortions?"

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"_Shh!_ There she is!"

Brooke locked her eyes with the floor as she moved down the hallway. She could hear every whisper, every gasp, and _every_ snicker. She just wanted to die. It had only been a day since she and Peyton had broken the news of her pregnancy to the JV cheer squad and only a day since she'd ran out of the school in shame.

Her cell phone had rung nonstop since she'd left and by the time she got home, she found her answering machine full as well. She anticipated Peyton's arrival at her house immediately after school, so she'd left early, not entirely sure where she would go. She just knew she couldn't see Peyton right then.

In the end, she'd found herself parked at the beach, left only with a beach towel that she carried in the trunk of her car for last minute skinny dipping escapades and a small cardboard package with the name _Brooke Davis_ and her address. She'd been caught by the UPS man just before leaving that afternoon.

_Tentatively, Brooke began to fumble with the package. Her manicured nails poked and gouged at the clear tape until it broke under her pressure and freed the fold on the cardboard, allowing her to open the box. She flipped over the box and lightly hit the closed end with the pad of her palm, prompting a clear plastic bag to slide out, revealing a folded red onesie inside._

_Brooke smiled in spite of her mood. The onesie was one she had ordered online two weeks earlier, after Nathan had given her the onesie he had purchased. Unfortunately, the little red outfits had been on backorder and had taken a lot longer to ship than she'd originally expected, but she was thrilled to have it in her hands anyway. She could almost see her son or daughter wearing it: red was her signature color after all, and if the baby looked anything like her, she or he would have the perfect complexion for it._

_She leaned over to her glove compartment and pulled the lever, opening the box. She rifled through some parking tickets, her owner's manual for her VW Bug, her registration, and finally uncovered a miniature sewing kit in a small plastic box. It was meant for emergencies originally, and had come in a Girls' Survivor Car Kit that Peyton had stolen for her on her fifteenth birthday, just before she had gotten her permit._

_Originally, the kit had come with only the primary colors of thread, a needle, a pair of miniature scissors, and a plastic thimble but over time Brooke had exchanged the colors for more elaborate choices, obtained a metal thimble, and added an arrangement of needles to suit her sewing needs. For today, however, all she needed was basic black thread, because black and red always went nicely with each other._

_She began to hum softly to herself as she threaded an average sized needle, tied it off, and then wormed her hand into the onesie and pushed the needle up through the dark lipstick colored fabric. No matter what kind of trouble she was in, sewing always managed to make her feel better. Most likely due to the fact that it forced her to take her mind off her problems and concentrate at the complicated task of not pricking herself while simultaneously maintaining an even pattern, especially since she did all her work free handedly._

Brooke closed her eyes as she rounded the corner, only to her a new wave of whispers and criticisms. She hugged her school books to her flat belly, which churned and growled so deeply that she could feel the vibration against her books. She hadn't wanted to go home, fearing that Peyton would be parked out in front of her house, and she knew she had to get back to school. After all, the only thing worse than being pregnant in one's sophomore year was to have a baby while trying to repeat one's sophomore year.

But each step down the hall made her feel more and more insecure. She wished she had her sewing needle with her right then, so she could just focus on one of her brilliant clothing masterpieces instead of the poorly waxed school floor. _Too bad I have the attention span equal to a baked potato_, she thought. _Otherwise I could just switch to online classes and never have to see these god forsaken people again._

"Brooke?"

Brooke scrunched her brows together. She could've sworn she'd just heard her name called amongst the whispers, though it wasn't a completely familiar voice: definitely not Peyton's or Nathan's. She wanted to look up and see if she'd heard right, but the fear of finding another mocking face deterred the effort.

"Brooke."

Brooke jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head immediately, tensing all her muscles. Her head turned to the side and she found herself staring into a pair of eyes the color of melted brown sugar. "Jake?"

Jake Jagielski kindly smiled back. "Hey," he said warmly, "you look a little puckish…" He nodded his head. "Wanna go grab a bite before first period?"

Brooke blinked. "Uh…" she felt her cheeks growing hot with the whispers surrounding them. "Sure."

"Cool." He squeezed her shoulder briefly, before giving her a gentle push towards the doors. Together they moved through the double doors, making their way into the sunshine and crisp February air.

"Thanks," she muttered quietly as they moved across the campus.

"You're welcome."

"So what do you want?"

Jake looked surprised. "Uh…I thought we agreed on food?"

Brooke narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I said do you want to grab a bite to eat and you said sure so-"

"I thought that was just a ploy," she interrupted, "to get me out of there."

"Partly," he admitted. "You did look pretty upset and for good reason." He shook his head in disgust. "I don't know why high schoolers have to be so cruel."

"Because they're high schoolers."

"Yeah." Jake scratched the back of his neck as they walked. "But the other part I did mean. And," he motioned towards the parking lot as they stepped off the curb together, "I do have some food in my car."

"You do?" Brooke lifted an eyebrow. "That's might convenient of you."

Jake chuckled. "Yeah, well, let's just say I've learned to be prepared recently." He tugged out a keychain and they stopped at his car. He inserted the key into the back door and twisted it, causing the lock to pop up. "Do you like muffins?" he asked as he opened the door.

"Yeah." She leaned forward, peering over his shoulder as he pulled out a box containing an assortment of individually wrapped muffins. "You weren't kidding when you said you were prepared."

Jake merely smiled. "Whatever you want."

Brooke motioned her hand over the box as if she were trying to see the future with a crystal ball. Her eyes settled in on a dark brown chocolate muffin with visible chocolate chunks inside. Her stomach growled, capturing the attention of both Brooke and Jake. Brooke laughed awkwardly and pressed her hand to her belly. "Sorry...I didn't really get a chance to get breakfast this morning."

"I see you eyeing that chocolate one…" Jake winked.

"Yeah…" Brooke shifted her school books to her other arm. "But it probably isn't that healthy-"

"If you like bananas, I'd suggest the banana oatmeal muffin," he suggested. "It's specially made with whole wheat, steel cut oats, and grape juice. Really nutritious for pregnancy."

Brooke narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"I took a Nutrition one-o'-one class at the community college over the summer." He bounced his shoulders. "It happened to have a section that covered nutrition during pregnancy."

"Oh." Brooke chewed her lip. "Well, the grape juice part doesn't sound so appealing, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad?" She wiggled her fingers above one of the banana oatmeal muffins and picked it up. It was smooth and cushy under her fingertips. She moved it to her lips and took a bite. Surprisingly, she found it extremely delightful. _"Mmm!"_ she mumbled through her mouthful.

"I thought you might think so," Jake laughed as he returned the box into his back seat. He snagged something from the floor of his car and then shut the door and held out his hand, revealing an orange juice juicy box. "Here. OJ always goes great with muffins."

Brooke attempted to swallow as she took the juice from Jake and smiled, causing a few muffin crumbs to fall off her lips. "Thanks," she laughed. "You're like a walking survival kit."

"I'll take that as a compliment." In the distance, the sound of the first bell could be heard going off. Jake glanced warily at Brooke. "You ready to head back, or do you want to hang here a little longer?"

Brooke glanced across the campus and watched as throngs of people lumbered through the doors. Her stomach somersaulted. "I don't really want to, but I kind of have to…you know?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah, I feel you." He didn't move though, instead waiting for Brooke to initiate the way back towards the school.

"Thanks, Jake."

"Anytime." he smiled genuinely. "I know we've never really talked much-"

"You mean besides me hitting on you in a drunken haze?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "besides that." He nodded, "But I just want you to know…I'm around if you ever need to talk or just get away."

Brooke bobbed her head. "I appreciate that." Her eyes flicked back to the school. The campus was nearly cleared out front. "I guess we should start moving…I can't really afford anymore tardies or absences." She put one foot out and stepped forward, unknowingly prompting Jake to do the same. Together they began to trek back to the school, with only a minute or so of passing period left.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the front of Peyton's black Comet turned into the school parking lot. Peyton was behind the wheel, with Nathan seated next to her in the passenger seat and their backpacks thrown haphazardly in the red backseat.

"I can't believe she never came home," Peyton vented. Her voice was saturated with worry. She was barely paying attention to the road, but instead turning her head back and forth looking for any sign of Brooke and/or her VW Bug. "I get why she left," she continued to rant, "but where the hell did she go if she didn't even go home?"

Nathan laid a hand on Peyton's arm. "I'm sure she's fine."

"What if she's not?"

"It's Brooke-"

"Exactly! I mean, god Nate, didn't you hear the things people were saying yesterday? I should've gone after her."

"You did-"

"Not soon enough." She jerkily pulled her car into the nearest parking spot, which was far down at the end of the parking lot, having gotten there so late. Peyton threw open her door with an extra surge of guilt and plucked her backpack from the backseat. "This is so fucking ridiculous!" she hollered as she began to job towards the school. "I _hate_ high school..."

Nathan quickened his pace to keep up with his girlfriend. He was surprised by how much blacktop she was covering so quickly. He actually had to hurry to keep up with her wide, brisk strides. "Peyton! Wait for me!"

"Well hurry up then," she snapped. Her hand moved to her eye and wiped it with the back of her hand. "You're a basketball player, Nate. Aren't you supposed to be fast or something?"

"Quit taking your frustration out on me!" he finally hissed. "I want to find her as much as you do!"

"Yeah right," she growled. "All you ever care about is yourself."

Nathan winced. _Until recently, yeah, that was true, but not anymore_, he wanted to say, yet he held his tongue. As they stepped onto the curb, he noticed a strange squinting look on Peyton's face.

"Brooke?"

"What?"

Peyton pointed. "Is that Brooke?"

Nathan's head popped up like a spring. In the distance, he could see a girl and a guy moving towards the front doors of the school. A familiar wave of long dark brown hair hung down her back and he recognized the flirty way her hips swayed. "Yeah," he said, squinting as well.

"Who's she with?" Peyton asked rhetorically, suddenly picking up speed as she began to run.

"I dunno," Nathan mumbled as he started to job after the blonde. His eyes never left the double doors though, so when the person she was with turned and opened the door for Brooke, he recognized his face immediately. _"Jagielski."_


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**A/N:** I don't know if I have any readers left for this story, but if I do, I want to apologize to them immensely! I didn't abandon this story, it got locked on my mom's computer which crapped out. I got someone to take out the hard drive for me and put it into this external hard drive thing to hook up to my laptop. And since I haven't updated in forever, I wrote two chapters for you. Also, just for clarification, I'm writing this particular day of class as a block day. I don't know if anyone else has had them before, but when I was in high school, we had alternating block days and in middle school we had two days out of each week that were block days. For the purpose of this story, there are only two days a week that are block days. If anyone is unfamiliar with that that is, it basically means you break up your six periods between the two days (three for each day) and you have double the length of the class than you normally would have if you had all six periods in one day. Block A is first, third, and fifth period ("the odd day") and Block B is second, fourth, and sixth ("the even day"). And if anyone is wondering why I'm babbling all this, it's because Brooke and Nate's only class together is second period Biology and I don't want people to be confused as to why Peyton and Brooke are going to math after first period instead of Biology.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Why do you think she was with Jake?" Peyton rambled in a whisper. She wriggled her hand through her tight golden ringlets in hurried thought. Since the start of first period English, all she could talk about Brooke being with Jake. "She _never_ hangs out with Jake!"

Nathan stared at his notes, attempting to ignore Peyton's incessant whispering. Not because he wasn't wondering the same thing, but for exactly the opposite reason: because he _was_. Truth be told, Jake Jagielski was one of the most mature, standup guys Nathan had ever met, which made him somewhat of an outsider on the basketball team, since most of the guys preferred – or were too afraid not to – follow Nathan's usually dishonorable lead. That also meant that for the most part, Jake didn't really hang out with Nathan's circle of friends, which of course included Brooke. So to suddenly find him hanging out with Brooke was an unneeded and unwanted shock to his system.

_I must be losing it! Why am I so upset about this? It's just Jake. He's just a nice guy…unlike me. He's probably just trying to be friendly after everything that went down yesterday. That's how he's always been, a friend to everyone whether they deserve it or not. That's probably the only reason…and he was probably only opening the door for her because that's just how he is._

Despite his mental reasoning, his muscles still felt tense, almost as bad as if he'd just spent four hours working out after practice. It was foreign for him; he'd never felt this way before. Well, technically that wasn't _quite_ true.

Once he'd been snooping around his father's office at the dealership during one of the long lost Saturdays while he was a child in which he had still _wanted_ to spend time with his father, and he'd come across a key in the bottom drawer of Dan's desk, which he immediately stuck into the metal box that was also in the drawer, and began to go through it out of boredom. The problem arose when he discovered pictures and newspaper articles about Lucas Scott, his older half brother by only a few months that his father had publically washed his hands of.

Nathan ground his teeth together. _No way!_ He thought. _I'm not jealous of Jake! Why should I be? It's not like he's got something I want…I don't want Brooke. I don't! I want to be there for her, for the baby, but I don't want to be with her…right? No. Besides, I already promised her I wouldn't ruin things between her and Peyton. I don't want her to hurt because of that. And us hooking up would definitely not bode well with Peyton._ He dug his pencil into the paper and the lead snapped, prompting an angry grunt from him. A few students and the teacher glanced his way and he held up his pencil.

"Lead broke."

"I got a pen," Peyton replied. She shoved her hand into her backpack and pulled out a red pen moments later. She frowned slightly as she handed it to him. "Sorry, I don't have blue or black."

"Thanks." Nathan glanced at the board, noting where he'd left off with his notes, and began to write again. Unfortunately the color was uncomfortable. It reminded him of Brooke. _Brooke and red_, he thought. _It's her color. Figures Peyton would give me a red pen. As if I don't have enough of Brooke on my mind already._

"Do you think-"

"Miss Sawyer," the teacher crudely interrupted, "do you have something you'd like to share with the class?"

Peyton shifted uneasily in her seat. "No." she forced a smile. "Not a thing."

"Then please be quiet so your peers can focus their energies on their notes."

Peyton nodded, forcing a smile though her eyes gave away that she was throwing something at the woman inside her head. She pressed her lips together and stared down at her notebook. She wasn't even writing notes; instead she was working on a sketch of Jake opening the door for Brooke.

Nathan spied the sketch from the corner of his eye and inwardly groaned. As if he didn't already have that moment playing in full color in his head, now he had to see it on paper in black and white too. He wanted to just rip the paper right off Peyton's notebook, ball it up, and dunk it into the trashcan where it belonged.

As he fantasized about all the ways to destroy Peyton's sketch, the bell began to ring, jolting him from his vivid thoughts like an alarm clock. Robotically, he picked up his backpack and swept his arm across the desk, sliding his notes and Peyton's red pen into his bag.

"Finally!" Peyton breathed. "I hate this class!" she whispered through gritted teeth as they made their way towards the door amongst the swarm of other classmates. Peyton was right behind Nathan like a Queensland Heeler to cattle. "Cottrell's a first class dick." She shook her head as they waded down the hallway. "Anyway, about Jake-"

"What about Jake?" Nathan cut in, his voice flavored with venom. "Why are you so obsessed with Jake and Brooke anyway, Peyton? What's it to you?"

"Oh I don't know," she replied sarcastically as they stopped at their lockers. They were assigned alphabetically by last name, so hers was near the beginning of the row on the top, while his was a few lockers over, on the bottom row. "Maybe because I find it odd that Brooke was gone all night and then suddenly all chummy with Jake today…who she's _never_ with, at least not while she's sober."

"You know how Jake is," he responded as he switched out his English books for his history and math books. The statement seemed more to reassure himself than Peyton though.

"I just think it's weird," she replied dismissively. "I have her for math this period. Maybe I can get a scoop?"

"Good luck with that."

Peyton rolled her eyes and slammed her locker door shut. She twisted her lock for good measure and then flung one strap of her backpack over her shoulder and hurried off down the hallway, not even bothering to say goodbye to her boyfriend. As she wormed her way through the crowd, she moved her head back and forth, appearing as though she was bopping to some obnoxious song. She didn't see Brooke though, so she paused at the doorway and waited until the bell rang. With a groan, and no best friend to speak of, she stepped into the classroom, only to find Brooke already seated and staring at the whiteboard.

Peyton gawked as she hurried over and snagged the seat behind her best friend. "You're never here early!" she whispered as she playfully poked Brooke in the back with the end of her pencil.

"I felt like a change of pace today," Brooke quietly replied as the teacher made his way into the room, causing the chatter to fall to a low murmur. Their mathematics teacher, Mr. Pickett, had a hearing aide, so as long as the chatter was kept low and he didn't catch their mouths moving, everyone knew they could get away with talking in class.

"I'll bet," Peyton replied. She dug into her backpack and pulled out the notebook she'd been drawing in during English. As quietly as possible, she tugged at the perforated pages of the sketch she'd made until it was free of its confinements in the sketchbook. She tapped Brooke on the shoulder and discretely slipped her the drawing while Mr. Pickett wrote an elaborate looking equation on the board.

Brooke flipped over the sketch and instantly felt her cheeks and forehead growing hot. "You were watching me this morning?" she yelped.

"No! Nathan and I got to school late – after I waited all night out in front of your house for you I might add – and we saw you go inside with Jake." She strummed her fingers along the desk. It was nicked, with various pencil sketches and little symbols drawn in permanent marker. Several of them were from Peyton herself. "What's the deal with that, anyway?"

"What deal?" Brooke asked defensively.

"You and Jake…hanging out."

"Jake and I have hung out before…"

"One hand on Jake and one hand on a cup of booze doesn't count."

"It was nothing," Brooke snapped, and Peyton could hear the glare in her voice. Brooke shoved the sketch back at Peyton and turned back around in her seat, staring at the whiteboard as if she was actually interested in paying attention.

"Geeze, you don't have to be so bitchy about it," Peyton rolled her eyes. "Are the mood swings kicking in already?"

A few people stopped what they were doing and glanced Brooke and Peyton's way. Brooke could feel her face burning even hotter under their gaze and shook her head, causing her long brown hair to fall to the sides of her face, veiling her from the stares. _"Shut up, Peyton!"_ she hissed, low and ominous.

Peyton recoiled. "Sorry." She whispered sincerely, having not meant the comment to be hurtful. To her misfortune, Brooke didn't turn around and accept the apology. Silently, she rung her hands together and stared down at her desk as the teacher began his lesson. Peyton wasn't a fan of block days or mathematics to begin with and she could tell right from the get-go that this was going to be a _very long_ class if Brooke was going to refuse to speak to her.

She flipped her pencil over and began to draw lead circles on the cratered wooden surface as Mr. Pickett lectured. There was no way she was going to be able to keep up with class today, there was just too much on her mind. Like why Brooke had been hanging out with Jake. The fact that her best friend was also being secretive about it made her curiosity worse.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she muttered through her locked teeth so that she alone could hear herself. The pencil in her hand began to swivel on its own accord, feathering an arching back and scowl faced gray feline on the desk. From the corner of her eye, she spied the back of Brooke's brunette head. With a sigh, she looked down at her drawing and moved her pencil to the side, sketching a miniature feline beside her first drawing; a kitten. "But satisfaction brought it back."

"Ms. Sawyer?"

Blonde curls bobbed around her head as she threw her head back, locking eyes with Mr. Pickett. "Yes?"

"Can you help us with the equation I've just written?"

Peyton sputtered as she stared at the problem, which literally stretched from one end of the board to the other. She could feel heat spreading to her cheeks and tried to discretely shake her head so as to move her blonde curls over her face to hide her embarrassment. "Uh…" she wriggled uncomfortably; being outed by the teacher in one class was bad enough, let alone two in a row. "Math really isn't my strong suit…" She flashed a pearly smile for good measure.

"You might fair better if you had your books out, Ms. Sawyer."

"Good idea." The sound of snickering reached her ears before she even had a chance to reach for her backpack. As she leaned over, her hair brushed the sketch of Brooke and Jake off her desk and it fluttered to the floor beside her bag. She paused, examining the image once again, and then pulled her mathematics text from her pack. Her eyes narrowed with suspect. With a swift motion, she scooped up the sketch and slid it between the pages of her math book. She had no idea of the sketch was _something_ or if it was _nothing_, but she was determined to find out.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**A/N:** Second chapter, as promised!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Nineteen**

The cell phone popped as it slammed shut. If her annoyance had a voice, Peyton assumed it would sound exactly like the shutting of her cell. The time flashed on screen of her phone before fading to black. She'd been waiting for over a half an hour for Nathan and it was becoming almost unbearable: the red leather of her car seats and her black leather jacket seemed to be working in conjunction to suck up as much of the sun's rays as possible in an attempt to urge her out of the Comet. The undersides of her legs already felt as though they had a sunburn.

"Fine!" she yelled to the sky. "You win!" With a sudden burst of energy, she jumped out of the driver's side and reveled in the cool breeze at it blew across the backs of her red thighs. "God, I swear I am going to kill Tim if he ever gets here!"

"Peyton?"

The cheerleader glanced up, surprised to see Deb hovering on the porch. She raised her hand. "Hi, Mrs. Scott!" Feeling slightly self conscious, she smoothed her mini skirt and attempted to lean casually against the side of the Comet, until the black paint singed her leg. With a hop, she jumped back.

"Would you like to come in?"

Peyton squirmed. Having only met Deb a few times, she didn't really know her, and given the way Nathan talked about her absentee status, she didn't really care to know her. Up until this point, she had guessed that Deb didn't really care about getting to know her either. "Uh…" She fingered her backpack from the back seat and swung it onto her right shoulder. "Sure. Thanks."

"He's a little late," the elder blonde noted as Peyton moved past her into the house.

"Mhmm."

"You know you could've come in earlier if you'd wanted."

"Oh." Peyton pursed her lips as she walked ahead into the kitchen. "I didn't realize anyone was home."

"I've taken some time off work recently." She was at the counter now, chopping up fresh lemons. "It occurred to me the other night that I've been neglecting the most important things in my life and I wanted to correct that."

Peyton pressed her elbows to the cool countertop and propped her head in her hands. She inhaled the refreshing citrus scent. The only times she ever really got to enjoy that particular smell was when it was combined with Pledge and dust. "How long are you planning to stay?"

"It's permanent." She speared one lemon half onto a juicer and began to grind it down. "I'll be working from home now, online. It's the way of the future, after all."

"I see." Peyton stared at the countertop. "That's nice," she mumbled without thinking. "I wish there was a way to work an oil rig from the Internet."

"Your father?" Sincerity laced her words.

"Yeah," Peyton shrugged her shoulders and forced a smile. "But you do what you have to do, right? It's not like being a single father in today's world is easy. I'm just glad he does his best, you know?"

Deb nodded as she began to juice another lemon half. "Being a single parent is difficult." She lifted the bowl of lemon juice and poured it into a pitcher, followed by purified tap water, and three cups of sugar. After moving it to the counter so she was face to face with Peyton, she selected a wooden spoon which she began to stir the lemonade with. "I'm sure that after growing up watching your father, you of all people would know that, wouldn't you?"

"Of course." Peyton shifted uncomfortably. _Why are we talking about single parents?_ The urge to chuckle at the irony of the situation with Brooke presented itself, but she resisted. _Could the news have really spread around Tree Hill that fast? Deb couldn't know yet…could she? And if she did, what business of hers is it anyway?_

"Would you like some?" Deb dropped a few slices of lemon into the glass pitcher and moved to the dishwasher, where she retrieved one glass. Upon Peyton's nod, she stole up another one and filled them equally before sliding Peyton's glass across the tabletop to her. "How is it?"

Peyton puckered her lips around the rim of the glass, not sure what to expect. Surprisingly, it was pleasant. "Good." So good, she dove in for a second gulp.

"I've been wanting to talk to you," Deb began, her face more grave than Peyton had remembered when she walked in. "I uh…I don't mean to be nosy, but are you…you and Nathan…"

The way the words were coming out of Deb's mouth were tinged with an odd sense of déjà vu. Memories from years gone by scanned in Peyton's mind until she found the one she was looking for: the sex talk. Her stomach lurched as she realized what Deb was trying to say and suddenly she had absolutely no desire to be sitting there with her anymore. "Mrs. Scott," she mumbled, practically choking on her lemonade, "I don't think this is an appropriate topic-"

"So then you _are_ sexually active?" she inquired, cutting right to chase.

_Why can't you drop dead when you want to?_ She shuddered, not knowing what to say. _If a lightning bolt could just strike me down right now, I would be ever so grateful!_ But of course, her silent prayers remained unanswered. "Mrs. Scott…I really don't know what to tell you-"

"Look, Peyton, I know this is awkward, to say the least, but I want you know that you – and Nathan – can come to me if you need to. It's no secret that I was a teen parent myself-"

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa!"_ The glass of lemonade hit the counter with a thud and Peyton was on her feet, backing up and frantically waving her arms. "Who said anything about teen parents? No offense, but I've already had this talk with my dad, alright? I don't need it from you. I don't plan to have kids for a_ very_ long time!"

"You're not pregnant?"

Her jaw felt like lead as it hung from her mouth. "Pregnant? No! Where on Earth did you get that idea?"

Deb pushed her hand through her short, blonde hair. "Are your sure?"

"Positive!" _Bad choice of words!_ "Positive I'm _not_ pregnant!"

Deb's shoulders shrugged. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head and Peyton was pretty sure she could even see a darkening shade of red in the older woman's cheeks. "I just…Nathan has been acting so strange lately and I thought…I was afraid…" When she finally looked up, the blushing trace Peyton thought she'd seen was gone. "I guess I shouldn't jump to conclusions. I'm sorry, I apologize. I didn't mean to invade your privacy, I just don't want to see history repeat itself. You both have your whole lives ahead of you."

The sound of the front door echoed from the entry way, followed by shuffling footsteps and Tim's echoing voice.

_Oh thank god!_ In a rush, Peyton gathered her backpack as her boyfriend and Tim entered the kitchen. She noticed the confused expression of Nathan's face when he noticed her, his mother, and the lemonade. "Perfect timing," she peeped. "We've got a lot of studying to do for that Bio test." With a forceful yank of his arm she added, "Let's go!"

Tim waved bashfully to Deb. "Hey, Mrs. Scott."

"Hi, Tim."

"_Tim!"_ Peyton scowled. "Come on. You've already wasted enough time." She dug her nails into the sleeve of his letterman jacket and jerked him around, forcing him to trail behind her as she led both boys from the kitchen.

"What was that?" Nathan was raising his eyebrows as the blonde pushed him towards the front door. "What were you even doing in there with my mother?"

"Having lemonade, didn't you notice?" she spouted sarcastically. "Whose bright idea was it to be over thirty minutes late?" When Nathan looked at Tim, it was all Peyton needed. She smacked him on the back of his head, causing him to grunt.

"Hey! What was that for?"

Green irises disappeared into the back of her skull. "Just get in the car," she demanded, pointing to the back seat of the Comet.

"Really?" Tim grinned, his eyes lighting up.

"Don't even think about it," Peyton snarled as she hopped into the driver's seat and plunged the key into the ignition.

"I thought we were studying at my house?"

"Not with your mom there."

"What's wrong?"

Over the roar of the engine, Peyton leaned into her boyfriend's ear as he clicked his seatbelt together. "She asked me if we were having sex."

Nathan froze. "What? Why the hell would she do that?"

The Comet pulled onto the street, speeding down at forty in a twenty-five zone. "Oh I don't know." Her voice oozed sarcasm. "Maybe because she was under the impression I was _pregnant!_ How she ever got that idea I have no idea!"

Nathan curled his fist and cursed under his breath. True, he had realized his mother suspected _something_ when he'd asked her how she felt when she first found out she was destined to be a teen parent, but he had never suspected her to ambush Peyton about their sex lives! It just wasn't in her character to be proactive about anything. She was passive, always taking the easy way out. He closed his eyes. "She wasn't kidding."

"What?"

Nathan shook his head. "Something my mom said a while back," he muttered as Peyton ran a stop sign. "Things really _are_ changing."

"She mentioned something about working from home now?"

"She did?"

"Yeah, said she wasn't going to be neglectful anymore. I guess that translates into being more involved in your life, right?"

"So she's gonna be around more often?" Tim poked his head between Nathan's and Peyton's.

"Get buckled," Peyton snapped as she eyed him from her rearview mirror.

Tim grunted and leaned back into the seat, where he pulled the buckle around his chest and snapped it into place. "Your mom's hot, Nate."

Nathan pressed his hand to his forehead. "So when you told her you-" he spied Tim bobbing his head in the backseat, probably to a rap song he had stuck in his head "-weren't pregnant, what did she do?"

"She…" Peyton shrugged. "…apologized."

"That's all? She didn't push?"

"Not really."

"So she doesn't suspect anything."

"Suspect anything?" The blonde practically cackled. "What is there to suspect? I'm not having your baby!"

"Who's having a baby?"

Without acknowledging him, Peyton turned on her radio, tuning it to blast in the backseat. "She did say you've been acting weird, though, and I've got to admit, she was right about that."

"Yeah, with all that's going on with Brooke, you haven't been acting weird too?" It was a weak defense, but valid, and Peyton seemed to buy it as she shrugged her shoulders to agree with him. Silently, he was grateful the confrontation – although worrisome – had happened, because at least this way, it would get his mother off the trail. After all, even when she inevitably did find out about Brooke, she'd never suspect he was the one who helped her get that way.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**A/N:** The last two chapters were a little shorter than usual and lacking in Brooke, so I hope this one makes up for that. It's much longer.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty**

"Shit!" Brooke slapped her hand across her mouth and squinted her eyes. With her free hand, she laid it across her belly. A faint outline could be seen with the fabric of her shirt pressed firmly to her stomach, but only if someone was looking closely. "Mommy didn't mean to cuss," she apologized. "And don't you go around repeating those words once you get out into the real world."

The cell phone on her dresser was dead, uncharged thanks to the downed power lines due to the storm raging outside. She was supposed to meet Peyton at the hospital in twenty minutes for a prenatal appointment, but with the home phones down and her cell dead, she had yet to hear from the blonde.

"Well isn't this a fine day for a doctor's visit," she glowered as she stared out of her bedroom window. Rain was sloshing against the glass so hard that it looked like someone was aiming a hose at the window. Brooke couldn't even see anything beyond the glass because it was so downright blurry.

With a groan, she slipped on her warmest jacket and yanked the hood over her head and pulled the zipper up as far as it would go, up to the bottom of her nose. Across the room in her closet, she retrieved a red umbrella and swung it like a baton a few times as she left her room and descended the stairs to the front door. Outside, she could hear the wind raging like some furious lion.

"They say it's bad luck to open these things in the house, but I am so not getting drenched by waiting to open it out there…" Carefully, she pulled back the piece of cloth that snapped around the base of the umbrella and then with a quick snap as if she was locking and loading a gun, the umbrella bloomed to life like a giant red rose. "Now or never," she clichéd as she opened the door.

With the umbrella pushed in front of her like a shield, the water and wind blew in on it as Brooke forged her way out of the front door. She felt like the last soldier standing against an army as she braved her way to her VW Bug. As she yanked her keys out of the car, another mad gust of wind blew around her, snapping her umbrella backwards until it looked like an inverted tulip. In shock, her fingers loosened their grip, and the next gust of wind stole it right out of her hand and carried it high into the raging water storm until it was long gone from her sight.

"Ergh!" Angrily, her finger jabbed the alarm button on her keychain and her headlights flashed at the car de-armed and unlocked itself. In a rush, the ex-cheerleader burrowed into the driver's seat and fought the wind to slam the door closed. "Okay!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "I get it! Bad luck to open the umbrella in doors! I'll never do it again!" Annoyed, she pushed her key into the ignition and the engine grumbled to light. Shivering, Brooke opened her glove box and pulled out a pair of red mittens, which she promptly slid onto her hands and then attempted to turn on the heater with.

"Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold!" she whistled as freezing air hummed from the vents. One of her pet peeves was waiting for the heater to actually heat up. With one look at the clock on the dashboard though, she knew she didn't have the luxury of waiting around and rubbing her hands together as she usually did. She needed to get to her appointment on time this time, otherwise it would be the second appointment she'd have to reschedule.

With a white aired grunt, she shifted her Bug into drive and pulled out onto the road. Water was blowing up around her car as if she were skiing. Her better judgment was telling her to slow down; if she remembered one thing from Driver's Ed, it was that oil and grease and all the bad things on the road washed up during the first rain, making it the most dangerous time to drive. But with the seconds ticking away on her clock, she ignored the logical voice in her head.

Her stomach growled as she attempted to slow down, only to find VW Bug hydroplaning. "Oh no, no, no!" Quickly, she shifted the gear down, causing the car to slow its speed without her breaking and making things worse. The front of her Bug nosed out into the intersection before stopping and to Brooke's intense thanks, nobody else was idiotic enough to be driving in these conditions.

"Okay," she squeaked out loud. "I'll be more careful. Hopefully five miles under the speed limit won't make me crazy late…maybe because of the storm, they'll be understanding this time. Unless that crazy ass bitchy nurse is there and…" Brooke shook her head, realizing she was rambling to herself. "Pay attention to the road, Brooke. You don't want to crash and die tonight."

During the course of her speech, the heater was finally starting to produce hot air, quickly filling up the small car. Brooke held one gloved hand up in front of the vent, absorbing the heat into her mitten as she controlled the wheel with the other hand until her right was too hot and then she switched.

"I think we need some tunes, what about you?" Her eyes found her stomach and soon after, she was switching on the radio. White noise greeted her usual radio station, so she switched over to her next programmed station, but that was only fuzz too. In fact, each of the six buttons on her radio were all static, so in her desperation, she began to swivel the dial, looking for anything that wasn't off air.

"_She's a hunter and you're the fox…"_

"Ooh, I like the sound of that one, how about you?"

"_The gentle voice that talks to you, won't talk forever."_

Brooke rubbed her belly slightly. In her cutest baby voice she disagreed, "Yes she will."

"_It's a night of passion, but the morning means goodbye."_

A stoic calm washed over Brooke's features as the lyrics rang in her ears. Instinctively, sweaty images of arms and legs from three months prior rolled across her mind. She winced, feeling several stabs of guilt in the pit of her stomach: for the betrayal of her best friend, for the life inside her that would never truly get to know its father, for the disadvantages it would face growing up as the child of the School Slut.

"_Beware of what is flashing in her eyes…She's going to get you."_

Brooke raised her hand to the radio, suddenly not so happy to hear it anymore. She reached for the dial, ready to change the station, when she realized the turn in to the hospital was right in front of her. With a yelp, she slapped both hands on the wheel and swerved, having almost missed it completely due to the sheeting rain.

"_All that she wants…"_

"Looks like we made it," Brooke gasped as she rolled into a parking space. "Mostly safe and sound." The engine died as she took the key out and stuffed it into her purse. From her vantage point, she tried to peer out her windows and see if she could spot Peyton's Comet anywhere near by, but without her window wipers on, the rain was just too thick to get a clear view out of.

Deciding to make a quick dash for it, she flung open the car door and placed her hands over her head as she ran towards the front of the building. The electronic doors whirred as they opened, allowing her entrance into the facility. She hugged herself as she passed a man with an oxygen tank and followed the signs and arrows pointing her way towards the prenatal care section of the hospital.

When she entered the waiting room, she found it oddly desolate. There were only two other women waiting: one was a middle aged woman with dried out, bleach blonde hair and a visible belly and the other was a young brunette girl who looked even younger than Brooke, thirteen or fourteen at best. Trying her best to avoid eye contact, Brooke eased over to the window and made a muffled knock on the glass with her mittens. A moment later, it slid open to reveal a nurse, most likely in her mid fifties, who didn't even bother to look up.

"Name?"

"Davis. Brooke Davis."

"Okay." She made a check on her clipboard. "Take a seat. There will be a delay."

"Uh…okay." She bit her lip. "Do you know how long of a delay?"

"The storm's caused power outages with our systems and we're already under staffed."

The brunette waited for the rest, but nothing came. She scowled inside as the woman shut the window. _What a great bedside manner._ With a huff, she chose a seat in the corner of the waiting area and sat down. At first she piled her hands into her lap and began to bob her thumbs up and down. As the minute hand on the old clock on the wall ticked away, she impatiently crossed her legs and then switched them later, as one began to tingle, a telltale sign of falling asleep.

It had been nearly a half an hour by the time the bleach blonde was finally called into the back room. Brooke threw her head back dramatically, catching the attention of the tween. She smiled and turned her eyes towards the door, silently hoping that at any moment, Peyton would walk in and make her feel even the slightest bit better.

_Did she forget? Or…or did she get caught in the storm? No! Brooke, don't think things like that. She's fine. She probably just forgot. Or was delayed. If the hospital's delayed, why can't Peyton be delayed? It's plausible._

The creaking of the door interrupted her mental ramble and a smile curved on her lips as the waiting room opened up. "Pey-" Her voice cut off. To her shock, the person who had just entered the waiting room was not Peyton. In fact, the person was not even a woman.

"Brooke?"

"Jake!" Brooke jumped up. "What are you doing here?" She could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment and from her peripheral view, she could see the tween staring at her again.

"I could ask you the same thing," came his lame reply. He was holding a hot coffee in his hands, one that had clearly come from one of the machines on the hospital grounds.

"I'm pregnant," she chirped, "I have a valid reason to be here." She gave him a once over. "And unless you've been hiding something," she motioned towards his groin, "then you can't use the same excuse."

Jake shifted uncomfortably. "Well I'm not exactly here to be examined," he admitted.

"So what are you here for?" Her eyes fluttered flirtatiously. "Not me, right? I mean…" her voice turned serious. "I didn't tell anyone except for Peyton about this, so you're not here for me, right?"

"No! Trust me, this was completely by chance."

Brooke shoved her hands into her pockets and glanced back into the room. "So you're not gonna tell me?"

Jake sighed and stared at his coffee cup. "It's a long story."

"I have a long wait," she offered, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "And I'm bored out of my mind too. I've been waiting here for over thirty minutes and only one person who was here when I got here_ just_ got called in."

"I'm sorry."

"Blame it on the storm." She shrugged her shoulders. "So, you gonna tell me and pass the time or what?"

"It's kind of personal."

"I could keep a secret." Jake's evasiveness was wearing on her. Maybe the intense boredom was just making her natural curiosity worse, she didn't know. "Pleeease?"

Jake peered into the waiting room. "You think you've got some time to walk with me?"

Brooke rolled her eyes. _"Definitely."_ She squeezed out the doors beside him and sluggishly began to walk beside him down the corridor.

"I've uh…been waiting for someone," Jake explained uneasily. He held up his coffee. "Been waiting for a while now, actually."

"A couple hours?"

"Try three and a half."

"Well aren't you stubborn."

"I don't hold a candle to her."

"Her?"

"My…my girlfriend. _Ex_-girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend? I didn't know you were dating anyone."

"Dated. And yeah…it was kind of a hush-hush thing. She's older than me."

"An older woman?" Brooke asked rhetorically, giving him her best scandalous look.

"Not that much older," Jake replied with a chuckle. "I met her at a college party about seven months back. It was her first year of college and I guess she was still into young guys-"

"She knew you were in high school?"

"Or was too drunk to care." He swished his coffee half heartedly. "We were both too drunk."

"I never pegged you as a drinker."

"I never have been. I've only been drunk a few times in my life and that happened to be one of those times, but I've sworn off alcohol since then."

"Why?"

"Because drunken sex leading to teen pregnancy isn't the best combination."

Brooke blinked, having finally dawned on her why Jake was waiting at the prenatal center. "Wait…you got someone pregnant?"

"Yeah." He chuckled humorlessly. "I guess we kind of have something in common, huh?"

"Well that explains a lot," she muttered. "Like why you knew about a pregnancy diet."

"I took that class after I knew Nikki was pregnant. Actually, after she agreed to finish the pregnancy."

"Agreed?"

"I talked her out of an abortion."

"You _wanted_ to be a teen father?"

"You didn't have an abortion either," he pointed out.

"Touché."

"I just…don't believe that an innocent life should be taken because the parents of that life made bad choices. And so after I knew I was going to be a dad, I did everything I could to make sure both her and the baby would be taken care of." He smiled shyly, "That's why I have that food in my car. It's for Nikki, whenever she's at my place or driving with me or meeting up to go to an appointment…I just want her to be eating healthy for the both of them, you know?"

"Wow." Brooke scuffed her shoes along the waxed floor as they walked. "I wish I had someone that attentive."

"You know who he is?" The look on Brooke's face made him look down. "I'm sorry. That just popped out. Forget I asked. It's none of my business. I'm sorry."

Brooke bit her lip. "Thanks." She scratched her head. "So you think _your date_ got held up by the storm too?"

"That would be nice," he sighed, "but she probably just didn't come. This is the third appointment in a row Nikki's bailed on, but I stayed here just in case, hoping it was because of the weather."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." They stopped at by a vending machine, where Jake noticed Brooke eyeing a package of gummy bears. "I can spring you those if you want."

She didn't know why, but she blushed at the offer and quickly turned her head so Jake wouldn't notice. "Thanks, but they said not to eat before the appointment. Except water. Lots and lots of water. Although I bet I could eat 'em if I wanted, because I probably won't be in there for another five hours, but then again, Murphy's Law. As soon as I eat those gummy bears-" She stopped abruptly. "Sorry. I'm rambling." She motioned her hand. "My point was thanks but no thanks." Her fingers found a stray curl and she wove it between her fingers.

Jake leaned against the vending machine. "Well if you change your mind, just let me know." He switched his coffee from one hand to the other. "Speaking of _dates_, did you have one who didn't show?" As an afterthought he added, "If I'm not being too nosy that is."

"No," she giggled. "You're fine. It was Peyton…but with the power out and the roads and everything…" Brown hair cascaded in front of her face as she shook her head. "I figure something must have held her up, you know? She wouldn't just leave me high and dry."

"Ironic choice of words."

Truthfully, it hadn't even occurred to her until he'd brought it up. For whatever reason, it just made her burst out laughing like a sick hyena. Tears were actually coming to her eyes from the conniption and desperately, she tried to apologize through laughter. "I…I don't know what's wrong with me," she wheezed. "But for some reason that's just so…so _funny!_"

Jake looked amused. "I'm going to chalk it up to hormones." He glanced at his watch. "We might want to start heading back, just in case you get lucky."

Brooke pressed her hand to her belly as they walked. "I kind of already did, pun intended."

"Gotcha." Jake winked.

Each step felt so airy as she walked in time with the boy beside her. _Jake Jagielski: father to be. Why can't more guys be like him? Why can't Nathan be like him?_ Her stomach knotted in response and she touched it to settle the feeling. A certain jealousy coursed through her veins as she thought about Nikki, whoever she was. _She's lucky. She doesn't know how good she has it and yet she can't even show up for a doctor's appointment?_ She wanted to sucker punch the mental image she was getting of Jake's ex. _If someone like Jake had gotten me pregnant…I'd be thanking my lucky stars. But then again, you're Brooke Davis…you don't get the good guys, you get the leftovers under the table._


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**A/N:** *hangs head in shame* I know, I haven't updated since October. I'm so sorry! There's just a lot of stuff going on and I'm a terrible person. I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"Nate! Hey, Nate!" Tim jogged across the gym, pausing briefly to check out a couple of cheerleaders, before reaching his friend on the court. "Hey!"

Nathan shifted his eyes, focusing on the basketball that filled his hands. He pitched forward, tossing the ball towards the rim in front of him. The pimpled orange ball blew through the air, hugged the rim twice, and finally fell in. He stepped forward, catching it as it bounced towards him and reassumed his position at the line, ready to throw the ball again.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah," Nathan replied monotonously. He wasn't. He had too many other things on his mind than to listen to Tim going on and on about his latest obsession of the opposite sex.

"Well who do you think it is?"

"Who do I think what is?" he asked, annoyed as he threw the basketball again. He watched as it slid effortlessly into the hoop.

"Brooke's baby daddy."

The ball bounced, hitting him in the stomach. Nathan winced as it lost its momentum and began to roll away. "What?" he muttered, as though the breath had just been knocked out of him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I thought you said you heard me," Tim replied. A strange look was plastered on his face, as if he was trying to mentally probe his friend to find out if he was lying about listening to him or if he really just hadn't heard him.

"I was," Nathan lied. He placed his hand to his stomach. "But I'm trying to practice and…and it's fucking loud in here!" He winced when he saw a couple of girls looking his way. With a dirty look, they promptly turned away, and he resumed his attention on Tim.

"Oh, yeah, right." Tim dumbly bobbed his head, blindly accepting Nathan's excuse the way he always did. "Anyways," he shrugged, "I said that Peyton thinks she knows who Brooke baby daddy is-"

"_What!"_

"I know, right yo?"

"She can't!"

Tim seemed oblivious. "Who do you think tapped that?"

Without thinking, Nathan slugged Tim in the arm. A shiver of regret washed over him as the latter recoiled; face tinged red with pain.

"What the fuck, Nate!"

"Where is she?" Nathan's fists coiled as his anger refilled him. _Brooke isn't just some girl you can tap!_ But he held his lips shut. There was no need to get into it with Tim. That's how he always was, not unlike Nathan in many ways – which made sense since he idolized him – but it did not help to infuriate the basketball star any less. _"Where is she!"_ he repeated, this time his voice a command and not a question.

Tim leaned against the pole that held up the basketball hoop. "I don't know," he grumbled, still nursing his wounded arm. "I saw her in the hallway, she was looking for you." He opened his mouth again, suddenly with a goofy look on his face, then thought better of whatever he'd been about to say and closed it. The look on Nathan's face combined with his volatile behavior was something Tim had seen before and had no intention of intentionally channeling towards himself again.

Nathan hunched over and picked up his backpack from the wall, which he slung over his right arm as he marched towards the double doors of the gym, not even bothering to look back at his so-called friend.

"Where are you going?"

_Idiot. _As the word entered his mind, he wasn't sure if he was talking about Tim or himself. Perhaps both. _How can Peyton know I got Brooke pregnant? There's no way Brooke would've told her!_ Beads of sweat her balling along his suddenly hot forehead. _But she did take Brooke to that doctor's appointment yesterday. What if…_ He shook his head. None of it made any sense. _She was so adamant about not telling her!_

His knees felt weak as he reached his first period English classroom. As he stepped inside, he saw Ms. Cottrell standing by the overhead projector, wiping it off with a wet paper towel that was stained with bleeding red ink. Something twisted in his gut as he was reminded that he still had the red pen Peyton had given him when his pencil had broken. The same red pen that had made him think of Brooke.

_Brooke and Jake._ The fleeting memory of Jake opening the door for Brooke crashed his mind. He pressed his hand to his forehead, attempting to will the memory out of existence, but the prolonged thought only seemed to make it more vivid. Thinking quickly, he scanned the room for his girlfriend, but she was nowhere in sight. _She'll be here any minute_, he noted as he caught sight of the clock hanging from the wall. The bell signaling the four minute passing period rang in time. With an audible shuffle, he found his way to the back of the room and took his usual seat. As he reached into his backpack to find his English notes, he pulled out Peyton's red pen.

"Nate!"

Nathan popped his head up to see his bouncy haired girlfriend hurrying towards him, dressed in her cheerleading uniform. Normally, he would've taken the time to admire the way her steel cut thighs moved behind the tight mini skirt and the way her blonde curls framed her bare shoulders so decadently, but things just weren't _normal_ anymore. They never would be.

"You'll never guess what happened," she spoke breathlessly as she slid into her seat next to him. Her green eyes were sparking light firecrackers at whatever she had pent up inside.

_She's not mad at me_, he realized. He knew Peyton's body language and she wouldn't be so perky and spry if she thought for even a millisecond that he was the father of her best friend's baby. The crushing weight in his stomach lifted briefly as a few more students filtered into the room and Ms. Cottrell dimmed the lights. Another look at the clock told him that they only had about sixty seconds left before class officially started.

"Well aren't you going to ask me what happened?" Peyton prodded.

_Of course I want to know what you think you know._ He positioned his red pen between his fingers and looked down at his notes, playing disinterested. "What?" he skillfully inquired, keeping the boredom heavy like gravy on the word.

"I think I know who the father is."

Nathan tilted his head to the side, peeking up at from the corner of his eye. "And why do you think you'd know that."

Peyton swallowed and leaned close, pressing her face close enough to her boyfriend's so that he could feel her peppermint scented breath on his lips. "Yesterday, at the hospital…"

"She told you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. I got there late, because of the storm. The power was down and the phones-"

"Weren't working, I know. I caught that on the news this morning, all of Tree Hill was out of order."

"Yeah, well, I couldn't get a hold of Brooke to tell her I was running late because of the storm so I just hoped she hadn't canceled the appointment, but I got there late and…"

_The rain sounded like hollow, like a handmade Native American drum, as it beat the leather top of the Comet. She was still cursing to herself as she sped down the road ten miles over the speed limit, desperately hoping that – waste of time or not – Brooke had decided not to come because of the weather. She was already on slightly shaky ground with her friend because of the confrontation in math the week prior, which Peyton had managed to avoid bringing up again in spite of her peaked curiosity._

_The faint neon blue glow of the hospital entrance sign became visible in her window shield and she tapped the breaks, feeling her car slipping and sliding along the rushing water beneath its tires. The words on the sign weren't even readable; they just looked like a dim blue light that she was looking at from above a pool of water. But knowing the area quite well due to all the times she'd driven here with her father when her mother had been in the hospital, she knew exactly where she was. _

"_I could drive here blind," she muttered as she swerved her wheel, turning fluidly into the slightly flooded parking lot. It was surprisingly empty, which in retrospect, really shouldn't have been a surprise on a North Carolinian day like this.  
_

_Checking her dashboard, she realized she was over an hour and a half late for the appointment. It hadn't been her fault. The route she normally took to the hospital had been blocked off because of a head on collision, which she hadn't known about for the first forty-five minutes that she'd been stuck in traffic. But when she'd turned on the radio and found a station that wasn't white noise, she'd gotten the traffic update and learned that it would be another hour – at the earliest – before traffic was moving again._

_So the back roads had seemed like the best option. Unfortunately, her cell phone had still been down and her attempts to contact Brooke about the situation had been mute. And much to her dismay, all of the back roads were flooded. A smart person would have just turned around and went back home, but Peyton had made a commitment, and she intended to see it through._

_Now, as she wove through the parking lot, she spotted the outline of Brooke's VW Bug near the front of the building. With a weighted sigh, she began to chug towards the car, only to see the silhouettes of two people approach the Bug, stopping at the driver's side door. One of the silhouettes, slightly taller than the other, was holding an umbrella._

"_Brooke?" Peyton breathed, inching her car forward, but neither of the silhouettes seemed to take notice. She pushed her gear shift into park and unbuckled her seatbelt, leaning towards her passenger window in an attempt to get a better look. She squinted through the rain slicked window and sure enough, the shorter silhouette looked like her brunette haired bestie._

"_Who in the world…" her nose hit the cold glass and she recoiled, rubbing it with her warm finger. Her breath began to fog the glass as she stared, noting that if nothing else, the other figure was at least of the male variety. Then her green eyes bulged. "No way! Jake?!" Of all the people in the world to be with Brooke, she was sure it was Jake Jagielski! "So she thinks I'm a no-show and she calls him?"_

_Her fingers quivered as she watched Brooke open the door to her VW Bug and climb inside, but Jake hung at the opened door, holding his umbrella above the crack so that the water wouldn't poor in on them. It was hard to say for sure, but Peyton was almost positive he looked to be laughing. Or at least his body shook like he was. "Could be cold though," she reminded herself. "It must be freezing out there…which begs the question why he's still standing there." She shook her head. "And why he's here at all. First Brooke's hanging out with him after not coming home all night and now he's at her doctor's appointments with her?" Peyton's stomach curled as she watched Jake shut the door, followed by the rear lights on the VW Bug turn on._

_The blonde pushed herself back into her driver's seat, leaving two handprints in the fog on the passenger window. She pressed her wet hands to the wheel as she watched Jake hurry off into the storm as Brooke's Bug pulled from its parking space. Moving quickly, Peyton pushed her Comet into drive and pulled up beside her friend's car, where she pressed her palm to the horn, causing Brooke to spot her. Frantically, Peyton waved as she leaned over and rolled down her passenger window, just enough to speak._

_Rain howled through the half open section of the window as Brooke's driver's side window came down. "Brooke!" she yelled over the storm, her voice pleading. "I'm so sorry! There was an accident-"_

"_Are you okay?"_

"_Yeah, fine. It wasn't me, but they closed the roads, and then everything was flooded and-"_

"_It's okay. I understand."_

_Peyton blinked. "Is the appointment-"_

"_Over. Sorry you had to come." Brooke's tone wasn't sarcastic in the least. "I'm fine. But thanks for coming anyway. I tried to get a hold of you-"_

"_Yeah, me too, but the power lines were down."_

_Brooke nodded and wiped her face with the back of her hand. The rain pouring into her window had covered her face in a sleek glaze and was beginning to soak her hair. "You think you're alright to get home?"_

"_Yeah." Peyton swallowed the invisible lump in her throat. "So the appointment went well then?"_

"_The baby's good." She flashed a warm smile. "Hopefully you can make it to the next one with me. And definitely the one when find out the sex."_

"_Yeah." Goosebumps were beginning to form on her arms as the heat that had built up in the car rapidly escaped the open window._

"_We should probably get going!" Brooke called as a particularly nasty gust of wind roared between the cars. "I think the storm's only getting worse."_

"_You want me to follow you?" Peyton called, her voice laced with worry._

"_I think I'll be fine."_

"_Right…" She didn't feel assured. "Okay then, I guess I'll…see you tomorrow?"_

"_Yeah. Get home safe, P. Sawyer! Don't crash and die or I'll have to kill you!"_

"_Ditto."_

_Brooke giggled and waved as the window drew back up, leaving several streaks of water along the glass, concealing Brooke's face._

_With an overwhelming feeling of unease, Peyton cranked her window back up and fell back into her seat. She buckled herself as she watched her friend's car turn onto the road and vanish into the rain like a ghost into night. Her mind was a blur. "She didn't even mention that Jake was with her. Was it really Jake? Maybe I was seeing things? Unless…unless she doesn't want me to know. And if that's the case, then why? Why wouldn't she want me to know that she was with Jake? Unless…"_

"…Jake's the father." Peyton bit down on her piece of peppermint gum, gauging the reaction on Nathan's face. It wasn't as shocked or surprised as she'd suspected, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly _what_ it was.

"That's ridiculous," Nathan snarled under his breath, carefully watching Cottrell to make sure the woman didn't catch him and Peyton whispering again.

"No, it's not. Think about it," Peyton whispered, her eyes bright as flying saucers. "Where was she all night when she disappeared? And secretly inviting him to the hospital for the doctor's appointment? And she never hangs out with him…I mean…it _makes sense_. Especially if they are trying to keep it a secret. It's the only thing that makes sense: _Jake's the father._"


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**A/N:** For everyone fretting about not getting enough Brathan, don't worry, it _will_ come. As you may have noticed, I like Brake, but I promise, their interaction is critical to the plot…

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"Wow…" Brooke knelt to a squat as she brushed her hand over the hand painted pink baby roses on the white dresser. "It's so beautiful," she exhaled, tilting her head back to look up at Jake.

"My mom painted it. She's a bit of an artist, as you can probably tell. She's been painting since she was a kid."

"It's amazing."

"And my dad carved the dresser by hand. As soon as he found out he was going to be a grandfather, he got to work on it." He offered his hand, which Brooke readily took, and helped her to her feet.

Brooke's fingers curled around the knobs on the dresser and she pulled it out, revealing miniature pastel colored socks and a collection of onesies. "May I?" Upon Jake's shrug, she dipped her hand into the drawer and began to examine the clothing. "They look like doll clothes."

"I know," he chuckled. "A lot of them are hand-me-downs or thrift store buys. I couldn't really afford brand new clothes. Besides, from what I've been told, they grow out of them too fast anyways. It's better to go all out later on down the line."

"You've sure done your research," Brooke nodded, impressed. She fingered the delicate satin flowers on the sides of the newborn socks and then refolded them before placing them back into the drawer.

"It was the right thing to do."

"It's cool that your parents are so accepting of all this."

Jake shifted his gaze to an antique rocking chair in the corner of the room. "It wasn't all peaches and cream. They weren't happy when I told them they were destined to be grandparents in their mid-thirties, but in the same token, they also couldn't stand the thought of missing out on their grandchild growing up. And like me, they also don't believe that an innocent life should suffer because of someone else's indiscretions."

"They sound firm but fair," the ex-cheerleader noted. "Wish my parents were that way."

"How did they react when you told them?"

She clutched her stomach, stifling a breathy laugh. "Are you kidding me? I _haven't_ told them!"

"You're three and a half months along, Brooke. When do you plan to tell them?"

"I guess whenever they decide to show up in Tree Hill again. They're in California right now. Or at least I _think_ that's where they are. Honestly, I hope they don't show up. I really don't want to have _that_ blowout with Bitchtoria. If my hormones are bad now, just wait and see how enflamed they get then!"

"You're going through a life altering change. You need your parents support on this one, trust me, I know."

"Thanks for caring, but trust me, I know my parents, and they wouldn't be any support at all. Except financially, and…" She dug into her purse and retrieved a platinum credit card, which she waved in the air. The sunlight from the window caught it and bounced onto the pale pink wall. "…that's already covered."

"A baby is so much more than just financially taxing. At least you're lucky enough to have the funds," he motioned his arm around the room, "I have to split my time between school, basketball, and a part time job every week. And when I do have time off, I'm always hunting for odd jobs, just to make a little extra meat."

"I don't know how you do it. I'm exhausted just with school."

"Well I do have one advantage: I'm not the one carrying the weight."

Brooke playfully slugged the basketball player in the arm. "Yeah, really. You boys get it so easy!"

"Hey, I gotta hand it to you ladies, I don't think I could give birth…I've seen the videos." His well packed shoulders slumped as he visibly shivered at the thought.

Brooke's ocean blue eyes found the back of her eyelids as she smirked at the remark. "You boys are so helpless, you couldn't survive without-" A sweeping feeling hit her; blew right through her as though a ghost had stepped in and out of her soul. The carnation pink walls of the room whirled and became black as something akin to the wind being knocked out of Brooke caught her completely off guard.

"Brooke?"

She vaguely heard Jake's disembodied voice in her distant thoughts. As images and colors began to back into recollection, she found Jake's hulking arms tenderly embracing her, like only a father could. "Wh-what just happened?"

"I think you fainted."

She tilted her head, pressing her chin to her chest. "And you…caught me?"

"Yeah."

Brooke swallowed. She had been feeling a little dizzy after walking up the long flight of stairs with Jake to check out his future daughter's room, but she hadn't wanted to say anything. After all, it was _only_ a flight of stairs. "Sorry," she squeaked, her cheeks flushing as she spoke. She tried to turn her head to hide it, but realized she was unsuccessful when she noticed the sly grin on Jake's soft lips.

"It's okay," he smoothed. "Let's sit you down." The jock didn't even wait for a response before slipping his leg under the back of her knees and scooping her into his arms. Before she knew it, he was laying her into the padded seat of the antique rocking chair. "Do you need another pillow? Are you comfortable?"

Brooke leaned her head back, relishing the warmth of the padding on the rocking chair. It had soaked up the heat of the daylight from the room's lone window. "I'm fine. But thanks."

Jake pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "You don't feel very hot."

"Just a little dizzy; it's nothing."

"I'll get you something to eat." He pressed a heavy hand to hers. "Just take it easy, I'll be back in a minute."

Brooke found herself studying Jake's astute posture as he left the room. The angel on her shoulder scolded her for checking him out, but the little she-devil opposite the guardian approved. He was a sight for sore eyes. And tired eyes. And _any_ eyes, really. Prior to that moment, she'd never really had a chance to admire Jake: not while she was sober anyway.

_Here he is being the nicest guy in the world and all you can do is think about his ass!_ She mentally scolded. _Which is verrrry nice…_ Her nose wrinkled like Samantha Stephens. "Stop it!" she hissed aloud. "Jake's so much more than that. He's a really good guy. Behave yourself, Brooke." She rolled her eyes at the fact that she was even having this conversation with herself. _It just goes to show how much I've changed in the last two and a half months._

With Jake out of the bedroom, and still feeling too exhausted to get up, she decided to let her eyes do the walking: the walls were a soft pink, with a strip of wallpaper around the room with pictures of fairies and glittery flowers on it. Along the walls were furniture, all which matched the dresser she had been admiring earlier, which she assumed probably had all been crafted by the same proud grandfather-to-be and likewise painted by the soon-to-be grandmommy.

The crib was the oddball: it looked far older than it should, but like the furniture, it was a bright white, most likely recently painted, and hung above the crib was a silver frame with the engraved words _Loved_ and a black and white ultrasound photograph. Brooke eased her hand to her ever growing bump as she admired the ultrasound photo. "I wonder what you will look like." she asked, glancing down at her tummy. "What?" she asked. "No response?"

"Who ya talkin' to?" Jake poked his head into the room, smiling mischievously. He winked at her as he moved across the room and knelt down, placing a plate of fresh organic salad, cherry tomatoes, and finely chopped cucumber slices drizzled in Hidden Valley Ranch and sprinkled with real bacon bits onto her lap.

"You made this in a minute?"

"More like a minute and a half, but who's counting?" he quipped as he removed the miniature white straw from the Minute Maid apple juice he had been holding and punctured the silver hole at the top of the juice box. "Here," he added, "it's one-hundred percent juice."

"Are you even human?" The words slipped out between girlish giggles. Her stomach was growling more ferociously with each bite she took of Jake's late lunch. "Because you seem more like Superman to me."

"Didn't know Superman was much of a domestic."

"Okay, Clark Kent maybe?"

Jake licked his lips, mulling over the idea. "Okay, I'll agree to that I suppose, but without the dorky glasses."

"Deal." Her red lips wrapped around the straw poking from her juice box and she began to slurp up its contents. While doing so, she noticed something between the bars of the crib and squinted her eyes. "What's that?" she asked, pointing her painted nail at the crib.

"What?"

"In the crib." As Jake turned to look, she absentmindedly wiped off the red lipstick ring left on the straw of her juice box.

"Oh." Jake's face flushed a little as he stood up and moved to the crib. His muscles rippled through his shirt as he leaned over the railing and picked up what lay inside.

"A guitar?"

The jock tilted his head down, running his nimble fingers over the taut wires. "Yeah," he admitted in a whisper. "I uh…I play sometimes."

"Well look at you, Mr. Kent. So full of secrets." She sat up a little straighter and took another sip of her apple juice. "What do you play?"

"Mostly stuff I write myself."

"So you're a singer too then?"

"I guess."

"Mmm." Brooke pushed a strand of her dark brunette hair behind her ear. "Play me something."

The blush in his cheeks turned a scarlet color. "I don't-"

"Don't make me whine!" she threatened, her eyes glistening. The tinfoil crackle at the back of her throat alerted him that she was ready to do so if he didn't comply. Fluttering her eyelashes like an actress from a forties' film, she begged, "Pleeease? Pretty pleeeeease? With a big ol' cherry-" she stabbed one of the miniature tomatoes from her plate and held it up on the fork "-tomato on top?"

Jake grunted and dropped to his knee in front of the rocking chair. "Okay," he conceded, causing Brooke to clap her hands together like a satisfied child. A smile teased his easygoing lips. "I have to admit, I've been wanting to do this for a while now…for Nikki. To the baby. But uh…" his shoulders slouched as his slid the strap of the guitar over his head. "…she's never available."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Jake ran his fingers across the guitar a few times, getting a feel for the instrument despite that he knew it by heart. "There's a new song I've been working on the last couple weeks," he remarked. "I guess now is as good a time as ever…that is, if you don't mind it being a little rough around the edges."

"If anyone is fine with a little rough around the edges, it's me." She nodded enthusiastically. "Let's go, Jagielski. _We're waiting!_"

Jake began to strum his fingers along the wires, filling the room with a soul warming melody. For ten achingly beautiful seconds, all he did was massage the strings of his guitar. Then his lips parted and words like cotton against skin on a hot morning ran from his mouth: _"Such a lonely boy...couldn't find the joy within."_ His eyes connected with Brooke's as only the hum of his guitar moved between them. _"Such a lonely girl…such a lonely world we're living in."_

Brooke inhaled the vibrations of his music. The words, the music, his voice; it filled her mind and soul in the same way a mother's home cooked breakfast – prepared with love – completed a child on their first day of school. She could feel her eyelashes fluttering, wanting to drift off to the beautiful song, but held tight to Jake's heartfelt eyes.

"_I watch it all go by…can't find, a tear to cry…a tear to cry."_ He broke his gaze, shifting his warm eyes down her cheeks like teardrops, over her chin, along the length of her delicate throat, and right down to her faintly visible bump. _"It's so obvious how they need each other. They want and bleed and hurt but they keep it covered!" _A musical pause lapsed between his words. _"Until it's one big lie."_

The words struck the chords of her heart. Somehow the song he'd been writing seemed to be about her. _I have to be just imagining that. He barely knows me._ Nevertheless, she could feel her eyes tearing up. _One big lie. That's my whole life in a nutshell._

Jake's Adam's apple bobbed along his throat as he continued, _"They can't stay alone 'cause they fear goodbyes, well, they fear goodbyes. They fear goodbyes."_ His fingers embraced the neck of the guitar as if holding the back of a woman's neck, ready to puncture her lips with a sensuous kiss. _"He don't say much, when there ain't much to say. She waits for his response, she waits all day. The world keeps spinning in a silent scream and I keep waking in these dying dreams…"_

Chills ran up Brooke's spine. Just the word _dream_ stirred memories of sweat slicked bodies, spinning and coiling around each other, just arms and legs and primal cries that had haunted her for three and a half months.

"_I asked her for the time, she said the timing was off. But I got this pain inside, she said, 'It's all you've got.' I got this feeling that life is passing me by. I'm a couple of years late but I, I'm here tonight. I'm here tonight, well, I'm here tonight."_

She closed her eyes in an attempt to imagine that instead of the guitar he was holding so delicately, so romantically, it was _her_. Brooke Davis. All her life nobody had cared much at all about her, except Peyton. But even Peyton couldn't love her the way she so desperately wanted and needed to be loved.

"_He don't say much, when there ain't much to say. She waits for his response, she waits all day. The world keeps spinning in a silent scream and I keep waking in these dying dreams…"_

In the pit of her stomach, she felt the gentle flutter of butterflies. Miniscule bubbles gliding up to the surface of a clear pond. _Movement._ Bittersweet tears lapsed between her pressed eyelashes. She had been warned of this two weeks ago during her prenatal visit: between eighteen and twenty-four weeks, she would finally be able to feel the tiny life growing inside her.

"_Such a lonely boy…such a lonely girl…It's such a lonely world."_ As his fingers slowed to a stop, he opened his eyes to find the tears Brooke was shedding. Instinctively, he reached out to wipe them away, feeling both startled and flattered. "You're crying."

"Jake," Brooke wept, holding her hands to her stomach. "It's…I felt it _move_." She brushed her face with the back of her hand. "I mean, I knew it was there before, but I felt it move; my baby. It just…" she shook her head, feeling a whirlwind of emotion. "…makes everything seem so much _more_ now!" Strangely enough, she noticed that Jake almost seemed teary eyed himself. "Jake?"

"I'm happy for you, Brooke." He slipped the guitar off of his neck. "I…I never got to experience this with Nikki. She never told me when the baby first moved. I've never even felt her kick."

"I'm sorry." It was a lame reply, but she didn't know what else to say.

"It's not your fault. I just wish I'd mattered more to Nikki; I would've given the world to be there for something like this."

His words, combined with the fluttering feeling, made her almost nauseas. More than ever she was jealous of this Nikki. _If only I had been Nikki. Or if Jake had been Nathan. If we'd found each other…_ At the thought, her eyes clouded again. _Nathan. In months from now, will he be heartbroken over missing out on these little miracles too?_


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**A/N:** FYI, I'm rating this chapter Mature. It gets a little…descriptive near the end. Not horrible, but still, I don't want anyone to read anything they might be slightly too uncomfortable with, so this is just a warning.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

One of the things he hated most about his mother being home on a stable basis was the constant fighting every other night, and that's if he was lucky. It always began about the same time, just minutes after he would hear his father walk through the door after a long day at the dealership: first he'd hear Dan enter the kitchen, say something nasty about Deb's cooking, and then he'd hear him rummage around in the cupboards or the refrigerator, being sure to slam each one. Then he'd hear him confront his mother, things would begin tersely, and then erupt like a volcano spewing screams and insults in place of lava.

Currently, he was in his bedroom with his earphones pressed as far as they would go into his ears, but he could still hear them. Shrieking, yelling, banging, shattering glass… Sometimes he wondered how his parents ever got together in the first place. He couldn't really remember a time when they'd ever been an ideal family unit. And sometimes he wondered if Dan had chosen Karen, if he and his mom would've been better off.

The question prompted him to look at a photo on his mirror of himself and Peyton, back when they had first started dating, before the pressure to follow in his father's footsteps had consumed him. _I wonder if my parents used to be like that? Could they ever be like that? Again? At all? Could Peyton and I ever be like that again?_

He didn't want to be his father. But he also didn't want to ruin Brooke's life: in other words, her friendship with Peyton. Nor did he want to be boyfriend. "Right?" Suddenly on his feet, he plucked the picture from the mirror and examined it. At the time the picture had been taken, he thought he loved Peyton. He thought he would give her his name some day.

"Get out!"

The picture slipped between his fingers and Nathan curled his fist. The trophies on his wall shook as some impressive thud from the next room rattled his wall. "Damnit!" he hissed, fed up with everything. He swung open his door and tore down the hall. As he reached the end, he could see a shattered lamp and a chair with a splintered leg. Both of his parents looked equally surprised to see him standing there.

"Nathan," Deb said as calmly as she could. "Get back to your room."

"What's wrong, Deb? Afraid for our son to see who his mother truly is?"

"Shut the fuck up! Both of you! I can't take it anymore! You deserve each other, you know. That's how low the both of you are." Nathan didn't bother to stick around and see their reactions. Instead, he picked up his jacket and wallet and flew out the door, leaving a strange silence in his wake. As he approached his car, he felt around for his cell phone, only to realize he'd left it inside. "Fuck!"

The thought of just showing up at Peyton's house was heavy on her mind. It would be silent this time in the evening. He often envied that she got an entire house to her lonesome, even if she did constantly complain about the silence. "I'd take silence over my parents any minute of the day." But she had been acting puckish in Biology: sniffling and groggy. _If she's coming down with something, I sure as hell don't want it. That's all I need, to be sick on top of everything else in my life._

"I could go over to Tim's." But as quickly as the thought came to him, it moved along. "I don't need to deal with his crap right now." As he drove, his fingers strummed along the steering wheel. He had no idea where he was going: the street lights were changing and he would stop and go, stop and go. It seemed to be a theme in his life: just when he picked up any kind of momentum, there was another red light waiting for him.

As the pinks and lavenders faded from the sky, transforming it into a public pool blue, Nathan discovered that his car had taken him out to the last place he had expected: the beach house. He never came here unless there was a party going on and he only threw parties when his mother was gone – like she never was anymore – and his father was simultaneously out of town.

The sand surged up around his Jordans, weighing him down as he walked across the beach. In the background, he could hear the waves like a lion as they rushed in towards the shore, only to be pulled back at the last minute. A few caws from stray seagulls pierced the March air as he pounded up the steps and unlocked the front door.

_Silence._

It didn't look like a party had ever even taken place. The maid was always paid extra for her silence. But if he stopped and stood_ really_ still, he could still smell the underlying scent of booze beneath the lemon Pledge. Then his eyes found _the couch_.

"_I'm drunk."_

"_Peyton dumped me."_

Nathan could still recall the Corona in his blue party cup. He could still remember that sexy leer Brooke had given him that night as he turned to face her on the couch. And he could almost taste the tart flavor of the Mike's Hard Pink Lemonade that had been on Brooke's lips the first time he kissed her.

Instinctively, he touched his lips. They didn't feel hot the way they had that night, as Brooke's booze flavored magenta lipstick had rubbed off her mouth and onto his. His feet took on a life of their own: carrying him towards the hallway and down to the bedroom, where the door was closed. As he twisted the handle, he recalled how as he'd leaned against the door, Brooke had slapped the handle down before roughly grabbing his ass and then sliding her hand up his musculature as they tumbled inside.

"_So you guys really broke up?"_

"_Yeah, do you want another drink?"_

"_No."_

As Nathan leaned against the door, he recalled how aroused he'd felt as Brooke dropped her cup of lemonade onto the nightstand and ripped off her low cut shirt, revealing her fancy hot pink bra as she spun to face him. At the time, he figured it was only the booze, because he had never been _that_ turned on when Peyton had taken off her shirt before, or even after they'd climbed in bed together.

"_Whoa! Never mind, you're good!"_

The camera had been conveniently set up at the foot of the bed that night. On the rare occasions that he buttered Peyton up enough, he could get her to create a sex tape with him, but she always took the liberty in deleting it the next morning, when sensibility had replaced her drunken stupor. The night Peyton had broken up with him, he'd planned to take her back to the bedroom after the party.

"_What are you doing?"_

"_Oh, just having a little fun."_

"_Ugh," she smirked as she used the tip of her foot to poke his butt. "Promise you'll erase it?"_

"_Done," he promised as he clicked the play button._

As Nathan opened the bottom drawer on the dresser across from the bed and reached into the back, underneath a couple of spare blankets, he pulled out the camera he'd used that night. As he turned it on and pressed the button to rewind the footage, a stab of guilt raced through him for another promise he'd broken. His thumb pressed down on the play button, just as the tape rewound to the point where he'd crawled back onto Brooke.

As the video played, Brooke was giggling like a school girl. In one sense, it sounded like Brooke, in another, it was a sound he'd never heard from her: satisfaction. Like the happiness of a child who finally got the Christmas present she'd been wanting all year long. "Hold on," she breathed, pushing him up. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Her hand motioned towards the camera. "I would die if anybody saw this, Nathan!"

"Don't worry, nobody will ever know," he soothed from slightly blue hazed LCD screen. He pushed onto her again, enveloping her mouth so she couldn't protest. There was a faint click, the unmistakable sound of a bra unclasping. He held the bra up victoriously and slung it across the room, then dove in, lips and teeth suckling at her neck.

Meanwhile, her elbows bobbed along the screen. His form blocked what her hands were doing, but when his cargo pants slipped down his legs to his knees, revealing only his boxers to the camera, it was clear her intention. Then her fingers slipped around his waist, sliding between the elastic, and quickly pulled down his boxers, revealing his tight skinned star rump to the lens of the camera. She reeled her hand back and slapped it down hard on his right ass cheek, causing him to fall on top of her.

"You wanna play dirty?" Nathan snarled, leaning his lips close to her ear. He pushed back, holding one hand against her arm to pin her down, while he used the other to push up along the cheerleader's well trained thigh, squeezing right between her flesh and her denim mini skirt. His back shifted, blocking the camera's view for a time, and then pulled his arm back in a long stroke and turned to the camera, holding up Brooke's thong with an almost wicked grin on his face. Tossing the garment to the floor, he straddled Brooke.

"Agh!" The cry was primal as he entered her. Her hands slapped against his rippled back and she dug her manicured nails into his sinewy flesh as Nathan began a rapid series of thrusts, prompting screams from Brooke like none the camera had ever recorded before. The faster and deeper he dove, the harder her nails dug into him, until his back was literally dotted with red and crescent moon shaped gnashes.

Nathan looked away from the screen, but didn't bother to press the pause button. The sounds of the bed jolting and scraping against the floor could be heard. Brooke's screams. His moans and grunts. He could see it all vividly in his mind's eye as he listened to the climax of the tape, before closing the LCD screen.

As much as it disgusted him, just watching the tape again made his groin ache for Brooke. The sex was definitely the best he'd ever had, drunk or not. The conflicting thing was that even when he wasn't aroused and thinking about wanting to get off, he thought about Brooke. She was constantly haunting his mind. And as much as he wanted to keep his promise and erase the tape, erasing it would be like erasing the last vestiges of their night together. The only thing that would remain at that point would be the life they'd unwittingly created that night and the truth was, he would _never_ be able to call that life his.

So regretfully – guiltily – he knelt back down and slid the tape recorder back into the drawer, safely hidden under the spare blankets. Just another secret, another lie, hidden from the world. That seemed to be all that he and Brooke were to each other. "A tangled web."

Nathan collapsed onto their bed. At least he'd get one night of peaceful sleep. Or so he hoped.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**A/N:** Thanks for continuing to read, everyone! Little spoiler - there will be a Brathan confrontation next chapter.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Her mouth felt like it was on fire in thanks to all the scrubbing the prickly bristles of her toothbrush were doing. Well after her childhood was over, Brooke had still preferred children's toothpaste to adult toothpaste: blue bubblegum, sparkling fruit punch, orange… An added benefit of such toothpastes was not only the taste, but that they also failed to burn the insides of her mouth.

Ever since her morning sickness had kicked in, however, she had gone to extreme lengths to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. At present, that meant using a hideously powerful spearmint toothpaste that made her eyes water, and worst of all, it barely dented the foul bile that had soaked into her tongue and gums.

As she spit into the white basin, she noticed the toothpaste suds were tinged with pink. "Fuck!" she hissed, biting her tongue as she spoke. She released a squeal akin to stubbing her toe and angrily twisted the faucet to turn on the water. "Third night in a row that I've brushed so hard my mouth is bleeding. I wonder if I should be seeing the dentist about this?"

As the spearmint suds spiraled down the drain, Brooke took a swig of her bubblegum flavored pink Act. While she had admitted defeat in terms of her toothpaste, mouth wash was one thing she would not back down on; it was just too awful of a substance to stomach anything other than bubblegum.

With a sputter, she spat the pink fluid into the sink after thirty seconds and turned on the water full blast, making sure to rinse the sink thoroughly. She didn't want any of the vomit flavored foam lingering in her sink by morning. Once satisfied, she reached for the light switch, only to catch her reflection in the mirror. Her face was baggy and her eyes had deep, dark wells beneath them. "I look dead." She touched her stomach. "This is your fault, you know. You're the one who keeps waking me up at two A.M. to vomit all my stomach acid. Not. Cool."

With a flick of the switch, she turned the bathroom to darkness, and trudged off into her bedroom, following a path to the bed with her nightlights acting as a trail. As she climbed beneath her thick covers – now cold – she noticed a red flicker in her peripheral view. With a grunt, she rolled over and grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand. As she flipped it open, she realized she had a text message from Jake and she could feel her pulse speed up a bit.

_What on Earth is he doing texting me at two in the freaking morning for?_ As she opened the text and scanned her blue eyes across its note, she couldn't help but bolt upright in bed, throwing the covers off by accident. It was no matter, though, as she immediately jumped off the edge of her bed and ran to her closet, searching for something presentable to wear. Jeans would've been preferable, but with her growing belly, none of them fit anymore, at least not without clothes pins, and even that was becoming uncomfortable.

"Vanity's a bitch," she muttered as she weeded her way through her hangers, past all of her designer tops and dresses worth thousands of dollars that she'd only worn once; maybe twice if she was desperate. She mentally cursed herself for hating elastic so much: even a skirt with an elastic waist would've been acceptable.

Finally, at the back of her closet, she found an ankle length dress of what could only be described as layered bohemian fabric. It looked like something one would where in the warmth of spring, not at all something for a cold mid March at two o' clock in the morning. But since she was desperate, she pulled out the beige dress and slid it on. As she examined her form in the mirror, she realized it covered her stomach so well that she didn't even look pregnant. With a shallow smirk, she pressed her hands to her breasts. "And it makes these look even bigger and badder than before!"

Satisfied, she grabbed black woven corduroy blazer, slid it onto her bare arms, and slipped her bare feet into a pair of black ballet flats before making a beeline for her door, grabbing her purse and cellular on her way out. As she raced down the stairs, she couldn't believe that tonight was really the night. Unlike the last time she'd been there, the night was perfect: a crystal black sky, Tinkerbell winking stars, and the serenity of a cricket serenade. "If only it wasn't so cold," she muttered to herself as she climbed into her Bug and turned on the engine.

Once she'd pulled out onto the road, she wrangled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Jake's number with one hand. With such skill, she didn't even need to look away from the road to know where to press her thumb. As it began to ring, she placed it eagerly to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Jake?"

"Brooke! You caught me just in time. I'm outside right now, the hospital doesn't get cell service inside."

"She's really having the baby tonight?!"

"Yes-"

"But I thought you said she wasn't due for another couple weeks?"

"She wasn't, the baby's coming early."

"Isn't that a bad thing?"

"The doctors think she'll be alright, but they'll have to monitor her…keep her in the hospital a while after she's born."

Brooke let out a shriek of a squeal, accidentally pressing her foot against the gas pedal a little too hard, causing her ride to jolt. Luckily, there was nobody else on the road as she eased her foot back. "I'm so excited for you!" she beamed.

"Thanks, Brooke." Muted hushes from Jake's end of the line found their way to Brooke's ear, then he informed her, "I have to go. They're just about to take Nikki into the delivery room. See you soon. Bye!"

"Bye," she replied, a moment too late. The line was already silent, but it didn't bring her mood down. The pit of her stomach was tingling with anticipation: she couldn't wait to see Jake's new daughter! She'd been spending so much time with Jake lately, learning about him and all the plans he had for his daughter, it seemed surreal that she would finally get to meet his little miracle.

And on a darker note, she might also get to meet Nikki. Brooke wasn't entirely sure she wanted to do that. She might lose her control and sucker punch her. The ex-cheerleader blinked her eyes, trying not to think about Jake's ex. The more she learned about the woman, the more she hated her, and under no circumstances did she want Nikki to ruin this beautiful moment in Jake's life.

"I wonder what she'll look like? I hope she has Jake's eyes. Hopefully _not_ his nose." She chuckled at the thought of a little girl with a honking nose. "Definitely not his nose. But his sense of duty and honor and the way he cares about people…I'm sure she'll get that from him." She was so completely wrapped up in her thoughts that she missed the hospital turn in and cursed as she brought her car to a stop, flipped a U, and made a left turn into the parking lot. Unlike the time she'd been there for her prenatal appointment, it was far more backed, so she couldn't get a spot up front like she'd envisioned. Instead, she parked out a ways, and was thus forced to walk all the through the parking lot.

Her legs were aching once she finally got to the elevator. She hadn't been to the nursery or the maternity ward yet, but she knew where it was. When she'd gone in for her prenatal appointment, all of the signs pointed to the other end of the hallway for the women who were ready to give birth. As the metal doors clicked and whirred open, she felt an almost dizzying feeling wash over her. "Excitement. Nerves." She reasoned. As she stepped out of the elevator, she paused, leaning up against the wall to collect herself. As the feeling passed, she hurried down the hall to the waiting room, which she found to be oddly crowded.

_I wonder which ones are Jake's parents?_ The brunette scanned the crowd, looking for a couple who appeared in their mid-thirties, as Jake had told her. Problem was, there were several, and she wasn't sure if that meant that Tree Hill just had a bad teen pregnancy rate, or if maybe they were just aunts-and-uncles-and-cousins-to-be.

There was nobody else from Tree Hill High in the waiting room. It made Brooke feel special to be the _only_ person he had invited. On the other hand, "It's sad." She bit her lip, attempting to imagine the day when she would be in the delivery room, and everyone else would be out here, waiting for her like she was waiting for Jake. She tried to imagine Peyton seated in her chair, as anxious and jumpy as herself, excited to see the life that she was about to bring into the world. _I wonder if the cheer squad will be here too? If it was Peyton having a baby, I'd bring the squad._ Then her wandering thoughts turned to Nathan. _Will he be here?_ Her heart seemed to float right into her throat. _Supporting Peyton? Or…or awaiting the birth of his child?_ Shivers tore they way up her spine, neck, and then darted down her arms. _Doesn't matter. Nobody will ever know except the two of us anyway. If he is here, it'll have to be because of Peyton._

The minutes dragged on like days: five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. A half hour. An hour. Two hours.

As new fathers came in, the waiting room cleared out. It was almost five in the morning when Brooke checked the time on her cell phone again. Fifteen minutes to five, exactly. Normally, she'd still be sleeping. Sleeping until the last possible second in which she'd have to get up and head to school. The adrenaline was like a drug though, keeping her up all early morning long.

"Mom? Dad?"

Brooke's head shot up as she recognized Jake's voice. She saw him standing in the doorway, still dressed in blue scrubs. "Jake!" she squealed, bounding over to him before the Jagielskis could reach their son. She flung her arms around him, hugging him for all that he was worth. And against her better judgment, she even kissed him on his sweaty cheek.

The latter didn't seem to mind though. He hugged her back gratefully. "Brooke! Thank you so much for coming." When she stopped squeezing him, me motioned between her and his parents. "Uh, Mom, Dad, this is my friend Brooke, from school. The one I told you about. Brooke, these are my parents-"

"Nice to meet you," Brooke blurted out, shoving her hand out to Mrs. Jagielski. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Likewise," Mrs. Jagielski smiled.

"It's a pleasure," Mr. Jagielski agreed, also shaking Brooke's hand.

"How's the baby?" Jake's mother questioned, her eyes turning serious.

Jake nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sorry about the wait," he spoke breathlessly. "It took longer than expected. She was distressed. Every time Nikki pushed, her heart rate would drop and Nikki had to stop. We also had a meconium scare-"

"Meconium?"

"A bowel movement inside the womb," Mrs. Jagielski explained, looking at Brooke.

"Oh." She cringed a little, thinking about the awkwardness of asking the question in the first place.

"They had to do a c-section to avoid meconium aspiration." Jake eyed the ex-cheerleader. "Inhaling it, since the meconium mixed with the amniotic fluid, which the baby breathes until their first breath."

"So where is she now?" Mr. Jagielski asked.

"The nurses are cleaning her up right now and they'll be putting her on oxygen for a while, just to make sure she hasn't inhaled any of the meconium. They're only allowing two people in to see her at a time."

"Oh…" Brooke took a respectful step back. "I'll just-"

Jake slipped his hand around Brooke's. "I'm sending my parents in first, but they'll allow us to view her from the window." He nudged her with his shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you back there."

Her hand felt numb as Jake led her through the double doors, with his parents walking on the other side of them. She could barely contain the little squeak in the back of her throat that desperately wanted to slip out.

Jake walked the three of his guests up to a pair of electronically sealed doors with a wall phone next to them. He momentarily released Brooke's hand to pick up the phone and dialed three numbers. A moment later he smiled, "Yes, hi. This is Jake Jagielski, I'm sending in my parents to see my daughter." He nodded, despite that the voice on the other end couldn't see them. "Thank you." As he hung up, the doors clicked and opened. He nodded. "Just go halfway down the hall and the door will be the only one on the right."

Mrs. Jagielski kissed her son's forehead. "We'll be right back-"

"Take your time." He watched them disappear behind the double doors as they shut, then he took Brooke's hand again and ushered her around the corner, where they found the wide nursery window. Jake paused near the middle of the window and pointed to the middle of the room, "That's her."

Brooke placed her free hand to her lips. Jake's tiny daughter was lying under a heat lamp with what looked like a large Tupperware bowl lying upside with a square cut in front so that her head could fit inside. "What is that?" she asked.

"The oxygen."

"I was expecting her to be in an incubator."

"She's not that bad off," he explained as he watched his parents – now dressed in scrubs – walk in to admire their new granddaughter. He chuckled a little. "She kind of looks like she's ready to go off into space, doesn't she?"

Brooke chuckled. "I was thinking about saying that, but I didn't want to sound offending."

Jake shook his head. "You couldn't."

Brooke leaned forward, almost pressing her nose against the glass. "She's even smaller than I imagined…and look at all that bright pink skin."

"She's perfect."

"What are you going to name her?"

Jake nodded to himself. "I've given a lot of thought to that and…I'm gonna go with _Jenny_. Jenny Jagielski."

"That's pretty," she nodded. "Jennifer's a beautiful name-"

"No, no, no." He motioned his hand in the air. "Not Jennifer! Just Jenny." He pulled off the scrub from his head. "After my grandmother. Her name was Jennifer and she absolutely _hated_ it. She actually gave one of my cousins a ten minute time out when I was five for calling her 'Grandma Jennifer.'" He smirked. "It was my bully of a cousin too, so don't feel too bad. She was…she was my favorite grandmother. Passed away when I was twelve of a double heart attack." His chest flexed as he inhaled, remembering his Grandma Jenny. "She would've loved to meet Jenny."

"Jenny Jagielski," Brooke repeated, feeling the name on her lips. "It has a lovely ring to it, Jake." She hugged him again, less ferociously than before. "God, I am so thrilled for you. You're gonna be like…the world's greatest dad!"

"Brooke." Jake's face had become a mask of deadly seriousness. "You can't tell anyone about Jenny, okay?"

"But-"

"Nobody!"

"But how do you expect to keep her a secret? Jake, she's the child-"

"I've kept her my business this long, Brooke. Please, don't make me regret telling you."

Brooke hung her head. "Right. Yeah, of course, I'll – I won't say a word."

"Thank you." His eyes shifted back to the window. "Looks like my parents are leaving. Do you want to go take a look at her? If you still have time before class, I mean. I'm – obviously – not in a position to go today."

Brooke nodded. "Yeah," she grinned. "I'd love to go in and see her; I'm sure I can swing it." Much to her thrill, he took her hand again, ready to take her back to meet his little girl. Her stomach knotted like a coiled garden hose. _I could get used to this._


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**A/N:** Two updates today, everyone. But just a heads up, I _probably_ won't be able to update this weekend. Sorry!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"Too good for cafeteria food?"

She tilted her head back, staring at him from behind her movie star-esq sunglasses. "Have you got something important to say or are you just being your usual jackass self?"

Nathan slid his cafeteria tray onto the outdoor table beside Brooke's sack lunch. "I need to talk to you."

"Of course," she replied in annoyance. As she stabbed her straw into her Minute Maid Orange Juice she added, "And for your information I'm eating healthy." Her stomach flip-flopped. "For the baby."

Nathan looked down at his tray and absentmindedly began to stir his mashed potatoes and gravy. "I uh…we haven't really had a chance to talk much."

"You haven't bothered to try."

"Peyton's usually around," he replied in a low voice.

"Right." She dropped her head. "What did you want to know?"

"I…" The potatoes and gravy had turned to a pale brown slop, so he stopped stirring and just began to prod the food with his spoon. "I was wondering how it's doing. Do you even know what it is yet?"

"She-" at his look she added "-or he is fine, according to my three month appointment. And as far as the gender, I won't be able to know until the five month appointment. Unless I wanted to do an amniocentesis, but that involves a risk of miscarriage since the needle pierces through the womb to collect the amniotic fluid."

"Oh."

"You don't sound very interested."

"I am!" he announced, a little too loudly. Nathan glared at the few people who turned in his direction until they resumed their own business. "I just," he shrugged, "I don't know what you're talking about. It's not like I've ever been in this position before." He watched Brooke peel back the tin foil from around her peanut butter sandwich as if she wasn't even listening to him. "And it's not like it would be awkward at all if I went to one of the appointments with you and Peyton," he replied, his voice choking with sarcasm.

Brooke bit into her sandwich, leaving a perfect half moon cut out in the bread. As she chewed, she was sure she could see Nathan staring at her from the corner of his eye. _I know my boy-o-meter has been on vacation with my hormones, but he's staring at me! Nathan Scott is watching me eat! Isn't he?_ Deciding to trust her gut, she pretended not to notice and instead drew her tongue slowly across her lips, licking up the excess peanut butter.

The edges of his mouth twitched as he looked down at his tray again to avoid looking at Brooke. "What's wrong with you?" he finally spat. "You don't usually act like this…it started after you started hanging out with Jagielski all the time."

"Not all the time."

"You've been seeing him for a month!"

"I'm not _seeing_ him," she replied through gritted teeth.

"You've been spending all your time with him."

"You've been counting?" She surveyed him, pretending to be irritated, but secretly, the admission had caused a pump of adrenaline throughout her veins. _He's been keeping track of how long I've been hanging out with Jake? Does that mean he's…jealous?_

Nathan snorted. "You've got Peyton thinking he's the father."

"_What!"_ she sputtered, literally choking on her orange juice. Spurts of the liquid spewed from her mouth in shock. As she composed herself, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, accidentally smearing her lip gloss onto her hand. "That's insane!"

"Yeah, to_ us_ it's insane. But to her, well god Brooke, think about it: you're suddenly hanging out with Jake like you've never done before, you won't tell her who the father is, and you got all pissed off at her when she confronted you about why you were spending time with him!"

Brooke bit her words. _He's right. It does sound suspicious._ She hung her head. "Well she hasn't said anything to me about that," she replied lamely.

"She's afraid you're going to freak out and give her the cold shoulder again."

She sighed. "Fair enough."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do about it?"

"Stop hanging out with him?"

Brooke scowled. "Like that won't make me look _more_ suspicious. Besides, who is asking me to stop hanging out with him? Peyton or _you_?"

Nathan recoiled, accidentally dropping his plastic fork onto the ground. With a dragon-like snort he answered, "Why would it matter to me?"

"Because you're the one grilling me about hanging out with him. It's not like I have a lot of other people to hang out with you know."

"You have Peyton."

"Yeah," she replied in a haze. "Sometimes."

"And the entire cheerleading squad."

The ex-cheerleader scoffed. "As if! I've become more of a pariah since I had to quit the team and get fat. And trust me, I don't have any true guys friends. Guys don't go near a pregnant girl."

"Then why does Jake?"

"Why do you keep going back to Jake?" She blew a puff of air between her glossy pink lips, forcing a strand of her hair out of her eyes. "If you haven't noticed, he's not like other guys. He's sensitive, sweet-"

"Sweet?" Nathan barked. "Your hormones really are acting up!" The next thing he knew, the brown potato slop he'd been making was in his face and once he had wiped his sleeve across his eyes and realized what had just happened, Brooke was stalking away with her sack lunch in one hand and the other still coated in the leftover potatoes that she'd scooped from his tray and hurled at him. "Brooke! _Brooke!_" Angrily, he picked up his tray and slammed it down on the floor, creating a jagged crack along the center of the tray. "Damnit!" He punched waxy grid of the table out of frustration.

All he had wanted to do was talk to Brooke about the baby, about her appointments, and maybe even get a valid reason that would put his girlfriend's constant blubbering theories about Jake Jagielski being his baby's father to rest. Not only had he managed to fail at all of his goals, but he'd also managed to get Brooke so pissed at him that she'd thrown food in his face! While he knew that it was his fault for verbally approaching her the way he had, he couldn't get the prevalent idea out of his head that this was all Jagielski's fault.

"Fine," he sneered, picking up the cracked tray. "If Brooke's not going to tell me what's going on, then I'll just confront her _little boyfriend_ about it after school at practice." As he slugged back to the cafeteria, he found Tim at his side and a mental groan amplified in his heads. _Great! One more thing to deal with today._

"You'll never guess who I just asked out!"

"And I don't care," he swore under his breath.

Tim cocked his head. "What d'ya say?"

"What do you want, Tim?" he spat, loud and clear.

Tim bobbed along, keeping right in tow with Nathan's pace. "Bevin! I'm gonna take her out Tuesday night. And just between you and me," he nudged the star's arm playfully, "I think I just might get-"

"Do me a favor," Nathan interrupted, shoving the broken tray into Tim's hands. "Return that for me. I have something I need to do."

Tim stared dumbly as he watched the basketball storm off into the blustering Tree Hill High crowd, leaving him alone holding the busted lunch tray. He looked down at it. "Sure, Nate, whatever you say." His shoulders sunk down and he exhaled softly. "I don't know what I did, but whatever it was, I'm sorry…"


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**A/N:** Three chapters. I know, it still does not make up for the update lackage. But I'm going to finish this story! I've already got it planned out in my head.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"Jagielski! Jagielski, open the damn door!" The frayed skin on Nathan's knuckles was aching from banging on the door, but the adrenaline pulsing through his veins was flooding his better judgment. He'd been standing on Jake's porch for fifteen minutes and he knew Jake had to be home. His car was in the driveway and Jake hadn't been at school, so he hadn't had a chance to confront him in the locker room before practice which had only fed into his aggravation. "Jagielski!"

"Nathan?"

Nathan whirled around, completely taken by surprise to hear Jake's voice behind him. He saw his basketball teammate with his head hanging out of the window of a car that Nathan didn't recognize and for a moment, he was caught off guard; speechless.

"What are you doing here?"

Nathan's stricken face sobered as Jake rolled the foreign car into the driveway, parking it behind the car Nathan knew was Jake's. He jogged down the porch steps and right up to the rolled down window before Jake had a chance to get out of the vehicle. "We need to talk."

Jake winced as he attempted to open the car door, only for it to bump into Nathan, who didn't budge. Without enough room for him to get out, he sighed, but didn't bother to pull the door back. "Nathan, if Whitey sent you, tell him I'm sorry I didn't call him but-"

"Whitey didn't send me."

"Then what are you doing here?" Jake hung his head, lightly massaging his temples.

Nathan was taken aback. Something about the exhaustion permeating from Jake's face made him feel sorry for the guy, even if he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. He almost wanted to leave, but as soon as Brooke's face flashed through his mind's eye, his vigor was renewed.

Confused by his silence, Jake tilted his head back. "Look, this is a really bad time-"

"We need to talk about Brooke," Nathan cut in, his voice as sharp as a diamond.

"Brooke?" Jake echoed, his voice full of honest bewilderment. "What has Brooke got to do with anything?"

"You've been hanging around with her a lot lately."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He strung his fingers through his sweat glazed hair. His face was scrunching up every few minutes, as if attempting to piece together what Nathan was getting at, but only hitting a brick wall each time.

"You've been pretty chummy with her ever since it came out that she was pregnant," he said slowly, his eyes gleaming a bit like shark teeth. "I-"

"Of course I have," he said suddenly, albeit much more defensively than Nathan had been expecting. "What was I suppose to do? Haven't you noticed how everyone else at that school looks at her?"

The knight in shining armor-esq way that Jake had come to her defense made Nathan feel a little queasy, though not out of disgust for Jake's heartfelt tone, but instead due to the fact that he knew how right he was.

"What business is it of yours, anyway?" This time, he forcefully pushed the car door into Nathan's side, causing him to move back unexpectedly. Jake got out and hit the door with the back of his hand, slamming it shut. "Of all the people to show up here questioning about my relationship with Brooke-"

"Relationship?"

Jake blinked back in surprise, silent for several painful seconds, then his mouth narrowed into slit. "What's got you so hot and bothered about me spending time with Brooke?" He squared his shoulders. "You're not…aren't you with _Peyton?_"

"Wh – yes! Yes I'm fucking with Peyton! What are you trying to insinuate?"

"You've hardly shown any interest in Brooke before," Jake countered. "So I'm wondering why you – of all people – are here grilling me about her?"

Nathan's lips twitched, mentally stammering. "I – I – I'm here for Peyton," he blurted out.

"Peyton sent you?" Jake crossed his arms, his eyes revealing how little he believed the words. Then something seemed to simmer just below the color of his irises and the corner of his mouth twitched like a live wire, as if ready to say something else but fighting against it.

"Of course she did," he snapped. "She's worried about Brooke! They're – they're best friends, everyone knows that."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Jake asked cautiously. His eyes etched along Nathan's face, making the latter squirm uncomfortably in the sunlight.

"Why wouldn't she send her _boyfriend_?"

"To do what?"

"Ask about Brooke."

"Something still smells fishy to me. Tell me, Scott, why didn't Peyton just come to me herself? And why would she have anything to ask about anyway? Unless-"

"Unless what?"

"Unless…there's something you're not telling me."

"Peyton's protective of Brooke, especially now more than ever. She doesn't want to see her get hurt or – or taken advantage of. She sent me because…because we're on the team together and she thought it would be easier if I asked you instead."

Jake ran his tongue across the edges of his teeth, then uncurled his arms and laid them at his sides. "I've only ever been nice to Brooke," he said softly. "Surely Brooke's told her that, being as close as they are. Why would she think I'm out to hurt her?"

Nathan cringed inside. "Peyton's been burned before," he spoke, knowing it was only a half-lie. _He'd_ been the one to burn her before, on many occasions in fact. A part of him was wishing he'd never come. He hadn't thought out the confrontation at all and now he was building a web of lies and half truths with Peyton at its center, just so he could get Jake's real motive for hanging around his pregnant non-girlfriend. "She's…suspicious." His throat began to swell up as he considered what to say next. He was already in too deep, but he couldn't take back the lies now.

"Of what?"

"Brooke ends up pregnant and suddenly she's hanging out with you all of the sudden?" Just the mere thought of Brooke pretending the baby was Jake's caused his fists to curl, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. Plus, it had been Peyton's original theory in the first place.

"What?" Jake sputtered, caught completely by surprise. "You – you think – are you accusing me of getting Brooke pregnant?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything," he replied solemnly. "I'm just throwing out something I've heard."

"I didn't get Brooke pregnant." He looked so strong, so determined, it gave Nathan chills along his spine. "But if I had been the coward who had gotten her pregnant, I'd be by her side right now!" A softness laced his eyes as he spoke, not so focused on the brunette in front of him anymore. "I'm not the kind of guy who shirks his responsibilities like that. I was only trying to be a friend to someone who looked like she could use someone that could use it. But believe me: I did _not_ get Brooke Davis pregnant!"

"You're just trying to be her friend?" The basketball star repeated. "That's all? You're not-"

"Assure Peyton nothing's going on between us. It's not like that with Brooke and I. I'm just trying to be a good guy…not that you could really understand that, Scott." He flipped a solitary car key in his hand, "Now if you'll excuse me…" he spoke before he edged around Nathan, heading for the porch steps. "…I've had a long day, I need a shower, and then I have to get back to the hos…" He stopped as he inserted his house key into the door handle and glanced back over his shoulder at his teammate as he twisted the handle. "Just tell Peyton everything's fine."

As the door shut – he couldn't tell if it had just closed heavily or if Jake had intentionally shoved it – Nathan cringed inside. _What if he talks to Brooke about this? She'll be furious. She's already boiling._ He found himself walking towards his sports car, which was parked on the side of the road. As he climbed inside, he curled his fist and slammed it against the headrest of the passenger's seat.

_I overreacted for nothing! Fucking Jagielski, it's just like him to always play the good guy. I should know that by now…why am I acting like this in the first place? This isn't me. I don't care. I don't care! I've never cared! I've never given a damn before, not even with Peyton who has always tried to make this work…so why do I give a damn now? Especially when Brooke could care less about me in return._

The energy bar he'd eaten after practice suddenly felt like a bad idea as it rolled around in the pit of his stomach. He fumbled through the pockets of his letterman's jacket before he found his keys and thrust them into the ignition. His car snarled as it came to life, sounding like something from deep within the jungle. He pulled off into the street, not even sure where the hell he was going.

The leather steering wheel curved beneath his fingertips, as if knowing exactly where it needed to go. It almost seemed linked with Nathan's emotions as it weaved its way through the small North Carolinian town of Tree Hill. His thoughts seemed to hum in tune with the motor and everything he passed seemed a blur, until he found his foot falling against the break. When he finally looked up and around, he found himself in front of Karen's Café.

The revelation came as an utter surprise. He had no conscious intention of going there. He had no desire to even be near the coffee shop that belong to his father's first son's mother. In fact, he didn't even have a recollection of driving there at all. One moment he'd been at Jake's and the next he was staring into the large glass window where he could a young dark auburn headed waitress clearing off an empty table. With her back to him, he couldn't see her face, but from what he could tell, she seemed to be the only one in the café right then.

Nathan felt his jaw slacken as he watched her drop her rubber tub of dirty dishes behind the counter and then move to a piano in the corner of the store. He caught a glimpse of her face and for some reason he thought she looked familiar, but he already knew he had absolutely no idea what her name was. As he watched her begin to tow her unencumbered fingers along the ivory keys, he vaguely recalled that he may have seen her with Lucas before.

_If that's the case, it's no wonder she's working here. Or the other way around._ Nathan then noticed her suddenly jump up as a customer entered the glass window of his viewing box. He scratched his wrist as he watched her seat the guest and scurry over to the counter to get a glass of ice water. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the head of a brunette as she pushed through the door of the shop: "Karen."

Strangely, the name didn't come off his lips with the taste of contempt. From the distance he was at, he couldn't help but notice that she looked a bit like Brooke, at least from the back. They had the same hair, a similar build, and even shared mannerisms that Nathan theorized could possibly be attributed to the fact that Karen had also been a cheerleader in high school. However, when she turned and he saw her face, he was immediately struck by how different it was from Brooke's: so young, like a little girl's, whereas Brooke's was far too mature for her age.

As he watched Karen scuttle about the café, he couldn't help but try to imagine Brooke in sixteen years. He wondered if she'd also still be stuck in Tree Hill, maybe trying to run a dance studio or fabric shop, while also trying to keep herself and her son or daughter afloat. Then he imagined Jake entering the shop. Jake had claimed that all he wanted was to be Brooke's friend and a part of him believed that, but when he envisioned Brooke's future, he couldn't help but see Jake in the role that his Uncle Keith played with his half brother and it burned him from the inside out.

He recalled the photos and newspaper clippings he'd once found in a box in the drawer of his father's desk at the dealership. _Did Dan regret not having a relationship with Lucas?_ It was something he'd thought about briefly from time to time ever since the discovery, but it had always been pushed out of his mind before he could really dwell on it. Even in spite of his cancerous relationship with his father, the idea of sharing his dad with Lucas – who he'd been conditioned to hate for so long – completely enraged him. But for the first time in his life, he didn't feel angry. Or envious. Lucas, per se, wasn't on his mind so much as the idea of a lost relationship; lost time.

Nathan distinctly recalled how he'd told Brooke he didn't want to become his father. He knew he wanted to be involved in any way possible, but he also knew he didn't want to hurt Brooke in the process. _And I have. I don't want to do it again, but I can't let Jake become Keith. If anyone should get to be Brooke's friend and become the father figure in my kid's life, it should be me. I'm the father!_

"I'm the father."

A loud horn shrieked from the car behind him. He glanced in his rearview mirror and noted woman angrily waving her fist at him from the driver's seat of her Honda and a bouncing little boy in the passenger's seat, who she was trying to keep control of with her other hand. Ever so briefly, Nathan recalled when his mother had let him sit in the front seat on occasion – and only if he'd done a lot of pleading – as a kid, even if it wasn't safe or legal. Then he thought of Brooke in the driver's seat, instead of the little boy's mother. When the car horn blared again, he wrapped his hand around the gear shift and pulled into drive.

Growing up he'd heard his dad say over and over how one mistake can haunt you for the rest of your life and Dan Scott would know, he'd made many singular mistakes throughout his life, namely Lucas being number one on the list. Oftentimes, Nathan wondered if his name came in second. And as he thought of names, his mind drifted to questioning what Brooke might name their child. _Someone Davis._ His father always brought up how disgusted he was that Karen gave Lucas his family name, so it surprised him when he found himself wishing that in less than six months from now, there could be another Scott in the world.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**A/N:** Who all was excited for the unexpected but quite lovely Brathan scene we got Monday night? Too cute! I now must go watch some Brathan videos!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Brooke had just opened the bathroom door and was stepping over the threshold into the hallway when she heard the all too familiar sound of an infant's sobs. She cringed a little; the sound in her ears was the equivalent of lightning snapping a tree in half. She still couldn't believe something so tiny could have such a colossal pair of lungs.

"Jake," she called as she skipped down the stairs and towards the living room. "Jake, Jenny's-" she stopped mid-sentence as she realized that Jake was slouched over like a half cooked flapjack with his chin burrowing into his chest, completely lost in sleep "-crying again."

The ex-cheerleader hovered in the light of the television screen, paused on Scarlett O'Hara's face. She pressed her red lips together as Jenny continued to wail from both the bedroom and the baby monitor. She'd elected to bring over _Gone with the Wind_ as soon as she found out Jenny was finally allowed to come home. Strangely, Jake had seemed hesitant to have her come over, but she'd sweet talked her way into getting him to agree by promising a movie and treats. She'd just left out the part about the movie being a sappy old classic and the treats being store bought chocolate chip cookies.

Unfortunately they'd both underestimated Jake's first night as a single parent. Only one week old and Jenny was on her worst behavior, crying on schedule, at least twice an hour, and off, basically whenever else she wanted to. Jake had been up and down the stairs, getting more exercise than even Brooke herself had ever gotten on the cheer squad, to tend his baby girl all afternoon and into the evening, so as a result, they'd barely gotten halfway into the movie with all the pausing they were doing.

As Jake stirred, Brooke edged over to the baby monitor and rolled the volume dial down with the pad of her thumb. From the second floor of the house, she could still hear Jenny, but the noise wasn't nearly as deadly. With a weak smile, she grabbed the fleece blanket that Jake had given her to cuddle up with on the couch – which she'd abandon in a heap when she'd ran off to heave up her not-so-bakery-fresh cookies – and lightly draped it around Jake's crumpled form, trying her best not to wake him.

She clutched the baby monitor within her manicured claw as she began to climb the stairway towards the swelling noise of Jenny's screams. "I can do this," she mused. "I'm going to be in Jake's shoes in less than a half a year anyway. I might as well get a little practice." Brooke slipped up to Jenny's room, where the door was cracked and a soft night light glow was shafting onto the floor. She pushed the door open and dropped the baby monitor onto the dresser as she passed to the crib.

"Hey, baby…" Brooke cooed as she leaned over the side of the crib, smiling in the glow of the night light. She reached down and scooped up the throbbing bundle, wrapped by a giant jelly bean in all of her blankets. She gently ran her finger down the side of Jenny's pink face and cradled her carefully against her chest. "What's the matter, Sweetness?" She picked up the bottle from the dresser, which Jake had made just twenty minutes earlier, and eased the nipple towards Jenny's lips. The infant puckered her lips as tears continued welling from her eyes.

"Apparently not." Slightly discouraged, Brooke set the bottle down and motioned her hand slightly, as she'd been taught to in her science labs to waft for an unpleasant order, but she didn't smell that either. "Well you don't smell stinky," she noted as she laid the babe down on the changing table, where she unwrapped her blankets and checked her diaper, but didn't find it hard and heavy. "And you're not wet either..." She ran her hand through her hair, confused. "So what is it that you want?"

As she brushed her hand past Jenny to grab the edge of the blanket and re-wrap her, she felt Jenny's soft tiny fingers brush against her finger. With a giggle, she reached out to touch the palm of Jenny's hand and the instant immediately latched on and the tears began to wane. "Is that all?" Brooke murmured. She scooped Jenny into her arms and held her close, continuing to allow Jenny to hold her finger. "Well you should've just said so." She hummed slightly, immensely proud of herself.

"Just wanted a bit of company, 'eh?" She winked. "Well I'll let you in on a little secret: me too. Unlike your daddy, who didn't even go to school all week just so he could stay at the hospital to make sure you were okay, my mom and dad weren't around much when I was growing up." She exhaled, thinking of her absentee parents. "Sometimes I'd talk to myself when I was home alone, role playing both of them just to make myself feel better about on my own."

Brooke weaved her way around the room, quietly chattering on and getting lost in thoughts as she spoke. She was practically in the midst of a slow dance by the time she realized Jenny had eased off to sleep. When she felt Jenny's fingers ease their grip around her finger, she looked down and found the little girl's lids covering her bright eyes. Releasing a breath, she worked her way back to the crib and lowered Jenny into the crib, careful not to wake her again.

Pleased, she just hung there, hanging her weight on the side of the crib. A part of her was almost envious of how peacefully the newborn slept, so blissfully unaware of all the horrors and inequalities and injustices of the world that she was now a part of. "Enjoy it while you can."

"Brooke?"

Brooke jumped at the sound of the voice. Her dark hair whipped around her face as she spun to see Jake hovering in the doorway, illuminated like an angel from the night light. "Jake!" she pressed her hand to her throat, quietly laughing. "You're lucky I didn't jump high enough to hit the ceiling." She chuckled as she stepped away from the crib, intent on not waking Jenny again. "What are you doing up here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He shifted his eyes around the room, then pointed to the baby monitor.

"Jenny was crying-"

"Yeah, when I woke up and found you and the baby monitor gone, I figured that."

"You were already asleep," she spoke sheepishly.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?"

"Because you've been up all night and you looked like you could use the sleep." She shrugged. "Besides, I figured…I figured I could make learn something from her, you know?"

"So you used my daughter as a guinea pig?"

Brooke's face blanched. "What? No! Jake, why would you-"

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's tired," Jake said, placing his hand on her shoulder in the most reassuring way he could muster in his sleep deprived state. "I was only joking."

"Oh." In the faint light, she hoped he couldn't see the heat she could feel in her cheeks. "Right. Haha," she said in false humor. She shook her head and motioned towards the crib. "She's fine, if you want to check now that you're here anyway. She just wanted to be held, that's all."

Jake peered over the edge of the crib and a sleepy smile crept onto his thin lips. "How long did that?"

"I – I honestly don't know," she replied softly. "Wasn't keeping track. Was I supposed to?"

"No." He shook his head. "Just curious. She looks so peaceful…"

"I know." Brooke moved to Jake's side, unconsciously moving closer and closer until their arms were barely touching. "She's so perfect." Her hand found its way to her barely protruding stomach. "She looks so much like you."

"Don't say that," he rolled his eyes. "She's – she's _gorgeous_." His head flicked back and forth. "I still can't believe after all this time, she's really here. It's only just now sinking in that I'm a dad." He turned his head towards Brooke, his eyes practically glowing in the night light. "It's surreal, isn't it?"

Brooke felt her stomach flop. The room was silent, apart from Jenny's faint breathing, and Jake was so close to her she could feel the heat from his body on her skin. Staring into his gleaming eyes, she couldn't help but feel gravity pull her the few inches it took towards his face. The next thing she knew, her lips were on his and the room just faded away.

Her mind swirled like the spirals on a peppermint candy. It wasn't until she felt Jake's hands gripping her biceps did she open her eyes. At that moment, she heard the sound of the front door and immediately pulled back, staring into Jake's horrified eyes. "Jake, I-"

"You have to go!"

"No, Jake!" She shook her head, her vibrant eyes pleading in the darkness. "I – I didn't mean-"

"Jake!"

Brooke swallowed the jawbreaker sized lump in her throat as she heard Mrs. Jagielski's voice, followed by the footsteps as they came up the stairs. She felt Jake's hands slip away from her arms as they both turned towards the door, just as Mrs. Jagielski appeared in the doorway.

"Brooke," she announced, surprised. Her eyes flicked towards the crib, then back to the teenagers. "I didn't know you'd still be here."

"You didn't see her car?" Jake asked reflexively.

"I parked across the street," Brooke murmured. "I think they must have been having a party or something next door when I got here…" She shrugged, realizing it didn't really matter. "We were trying to watch Gone with the Wind, but Jenny's been about ninety percent of the time so we haven't really gotten that much time in." She motioned towards the crib. "Just got her down in fact, maybe ten minutes ago now."

"Brooke should probably get going," Jake replied. Peering at her from the corner of his eye he added, "You don't want to wait until you're too tired to drive, that's not safe."

"Yeah," Brooke agreed, refusing to look him in the eyes.

"Are you sure you?" Mrs. Jagielski asked with a glance at her wristwatch. "I could make up the couch if-"

"I have homework I have to finish anyway," she cut in, flashing her reassuring smile. "Procrastination, it's a vice of mine. I've gotta go." She nodded and skirted around Jake and past his mother, where she ran into Mr. Jagielski coming up the stairs. With an awkward wave she sputtered, "'Night, Mr. Jagielski, nice to see you again!"

Brooke trotted down the stairs, feeling the heat building against the back of her eyes. She ran past the living room, not bothering to stop and grab her video from the VCR, and flew out into the frigid night air. She hugged her bare arms as she got to her VW Bug and struggled to find the car alarm button in her pocket. As soon as she climbed inside, she slammed the door and shoved her head down on the steering wheel, accidentally honking the horn. The inflamed echo of the horn in the silent neighborhood seemed the perfect metaphor for what she was feeling inside.

"How could you be so stupid!" Her eyes were hazing up like fog on a window shield. She could barely see, so she pushed around her key, feeling for the ignition until it finally slid in. She felt nauseated as the automatic lights came on. Brooke rubbed her eyes furiously and then pulled onto the road, barely missing a few parked cars as she recklessly turned the corner.

In the month and a half that Jake had befriended her, the sweaty passion filled nightmares that had plagued her since the beach house had finally disappeared. She could finally look at Nathan and not think of entangled arms and legs. The longing hadn't disappeared entirely, but it had been relieved. Now, when she was with Jake, she got butterflies in her belly, the same way she did the first time she had a crush.

"He's got a brand new little girl and you're pregnant with Nathan Scott's baby," she reasoned aloud. "Why would you do something so stupid? Of course he's not looking for a relationship right now…he's already got enough on his plate and so do you." Recalling the look in his eyes after she'd kissed him made her want to scream. It was the _last_ look a person would want to see after someone expresses their deepest feelings for them.

"It was the hormones." Brooke was good at lying. She'd been lying all her life, to her parents and her friends and her enemies. She was so good at lying she could even make herself believe what she wanted. "The next time I'll see him I'll just explain it was a fluke. It was the hormones! Everything will be fine..."


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**A/N:** Last update! Woo! I've been waiting to do this chapter for a while now.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

It was Friday and Brooke had not heard or seen from Jake in two weeks. He'd missed a total of three weeks of school now and people were beginning to talk. She wanted so badly to say she knew what was going on and that he was fine and not sick or messed up on drugs or lying in a ditch somewhere, but she had promised Jenny would be a secret and it was a promise she fully intended on keeping.

She'd tried to text him on many occasions, she'd even called his cell phone once or twice, but she hadn't had the courage to actually leave a message. He hadn't responded and it was unlike him. But she knew the way she'd left things was also unusual. For two weeks she'd worked out in her head what she wanted to say, using her carefully plotted excuse about being pregnant and emotionally unstable and how it was all her fault and she didn't really mean it, but she knew she had to do it in person and she'd hoped she could casually bump into him in the hallway, ask to meet up after class, and explain privately because she was too embarrassed to show up at his house. Besides, she didn't want his parents to show up at the wrong time again, which had only made the situation ten times worse.

But with the weekend at her fingertips, she had finally decided she had no other choice. Her heart felt like it was on fire as she careened down the street and lightly tapped the breaks as she turned onto the street Jake's house sat on. She pulled up in front, parked her VW Bug, and climbed out on legs made of weak clay. She wobbled as she made her way to the steps, clutched the railing, and moved up to the front door. Before she could think it over and turn back, she rapped her knuckles against the wood.

The seconds seemed to tick by like an eternity of hours as she waited, holding her breath. She hadn't seen Jake's parents' car in the driveway, so she assumed he was probably home alone and that made her feel slightly better. When he didn't answer immediately, she began to wonder if he was staring at her from the peek hole, and choosing not to. As she lifted her hand towards the grain of the door again, a lock clicked and the door pulled back from the skin of her fingers.

"Brooke!"

"Jake." She tried to smile, but the muscles in her face failed her. She wasn't sure if her mind was playing tricks on her or not, but she thought he actually looked happy for a split second when the door had opened, but the smile on his face had vanished when he saw her, replaced with a hybrid of shock and awkward confusion.

"Uh, Brooke, now's-"

"Look," she cut in, touching her hand to the back of his where it was clasped to the edge of the door. She left his fingers recoil beneath hers even though they didn't pull out, so she pulled her hand back instead. "Sorry." She muttered. _Strike two!_ "Look, I just wanted to talk. I wanted to apologize. I know the way we left this – well, the way _I_ left things – last time and I just wanted to say-"

"It's okay."

"What?" She flicked her eyes upwards and noticed his face seemed to be covering up something else. "No, no it's not. I was just hormonal and emotional and caught up in the moment…I swear I'm not usually like that and I don't want-"

"Jake?"

Brooke tilted her head, zeroing in on the space over Jake's shoulder, into the house. The voice was definitely female. Suddenly Jake's estranged reaction to her made sense: "You have company?" she asked point blank.

"Jake," the voice said again, this time closer. "I found the formula but where did you leave the bo-" she stopped abruptly as her face came into view and her eyes met Brooke's over Jake's shoulder. "-ttle." She swallowed tightly. "Uh, sorry, I'll-"

"No, it's okay, Haley, she knows." He stepped aside, revealing a young woman with long, dark auburn hair, holding Jenny close to her chest. "Haley James, Brooke Davis." He swept his arm through the air in time with his verbal introduction.

Haley smiled meekly and maneuvered Jenny into one arm, while holding out her hand towards Brooke. "Hi…" she flashed a smile of pearls. "I didn't know you were a friend of Jake's."

"Ditto," Brooke replied, a bit more bitterly than she'd intended. She shook Haley's hand, even though holding it wanted to make her squeeze more than she should. Looking at the girl, she had a strange sense of déjà vu but she couldn't figure out where she'd seen her before. She'd been tempted to ask if Haley was Jake's cousin out of spite, but she knew better. Things were already bad between them and she didn't want to make them worse.

"Haley's from the tutor center," Jake explained between wary glances at Brooke. "My parents work full time, both during the day. My mom is trying to get night shifts right now, but she couldn't switch over until this Monday, so there was nobody to watch Jenny if they were at work and I was at school so-"

"So you've been gone for three weeks."

"Yeah. My teachers have been really good about everything. They were the ones who suggested Haley, they said she's the best they have in the tutor center and suggested she come over after school to bring me my makeup work and catch me up in class, so…"

"Here I am." Haley nervously pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and readjusted Jenny, who sat perfectly silent in her arms. Glancing down to avoid Brooke's eyes she added, "I'm going to go look for that bottle now."

"I put it in the dish washer, but there should be another one in the diaper bag."

"Thanks."

After Haley had disappeared into the house, Jake quickly shook his head. "It's not what it looks like-"

"She seems nice," Brooke said quietly.

"She is. She's a good tutor, that's all."

"Yeah, she seems great. Good tutor, pretty, good with Jenny…"

"You're not jealous-"

"Of course I'm not jealous! I just told you, that-" she lowered her voice "-kiss, it meant nothing. Just a hormonal kiss and nothing more!" She pointed an accusatory finger at Jake. "The thing that I'm angry about is that you've been avoiding me!"

"I haven't been avoiding you, Brooke-"

"Oh yeah? Then what do you call it? I've sent you countless text messages and I've called and you don't answer and-"

"I've been busy, I'm sorry. Do you think this is easy? Being a single father in high school! And if that isn't enough, I also just got a letter in the mail last week saying the hospital is coming after me for the cost of the c-section because Nikki skipped town and they have to send somebody the bill!"

"What? They can't do that, can they? I mean, it's not-"

"Apparently they can." He pressed his hand to the side of his face; a shell of himself. "I'm exhausted, Brooke, and when Jenny cries, she takes priority over my text messages. I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you, but it's been very bad timing. When I'm not tending her, I'm trying to catch up on my sleep or schoolwork. I'm only one person and I can't do everything."

Brooke winced. She knew he had a point and she hadn't thought about the ramifications of being a father, just about herself. _As usual._ She folded her arms across her chest, ashamed of yelling at him. "I'm sorry," she repeated lamely. "I guess I didn't think-"

"Well you should. It's only a matter of time before this is going to be your life too." From upstairs, they could suddenly hear the sound of Jenny's cries. Jake exhaled and looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Brooke. I've got to go. We'll have to talk later, okay?" He started to shut the door, but she caught it with the edge of her fist. He looked guiltily at her and whispered, "_I'm sorry,"_ and she didn't stop him when he tried to shut it again.

Everything that had seemed to warm and bright only three weeks earlier seemed dull and cold now. Even the tranquil, warm Friday afternoon air had a sharp nip to it as she walked back to her car. Jake seemed so much rougher now. She wasn't sure if it was parenthood or the kiss or street or all of the above, but she didn't like it. She wanted Jake Jagielski back: the guy who had opened the door for her the and given her breakfast from his car. She wanted the guy who had waited with her before her three month appointment and confided in her about Jenny.

A vibrating sensation erupted from her purse, interrupting her turbulent train of thought. She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open without looking. "Hello?"

"Brooke?"

"Peyton." Brooke lipped her lips, trying to put on a mental happy face so that her best friend wouldn't detect the disappointment and sadness in her voice. "What's going on?"

"Where are you? I'm at your house right now."

Brooke bit her tongue, mulling over a good lie to tell. "Uh, yeah, I stopped at the store to get a quick snack. You know, cravings and all…what did you need?"

"It's Friday night, I thought maybe you'd want to go out."

Brooke snorted. "You can't be serious! Not in _my condition_," she spoke, oozing sarcasm.

"Not out-out. Just, I dunno, _out_. My dad sent me a little mad money and I was thinking we could hit the mall and maybe the movies or something? Come on, Nate and I really want you to come."

Brooke gulped. "Nate? He's coming?"

"Yeah. We think you could use a night out. It's been a rough couple of months, ya know?"

"Was this your idea?"

"As if guys can really think for themselves. But he did seem to jump on it."

"Are you lying?"

"Would I ever lie to you, B. Davis?"

Brooke slunk into her driver's seat. As much as going out was the last thing she wanted to do, she knew it might be able to take her mind off the mess she's created with Jake, even if it was only temporary. And whether Peyton was lying or not, the idea that Nathan seemed to want her to go with them also made the idea of agreeing to go that much more enticing. She pinched the edge of her shirt and pulled it back, revealing the vaguely bump on her belly. She rubbed it tenderly with the pads of her fingers.

"So what do you say?"

"Where do you want to meet?"

"The mall: twenty minutes, don't be late!"

Silence filled her ear and she tossed the cell phone into the passenger seat along with her purse. "This is a bad idea," she muttered under the grunt of the ignition. "But this day can't possibly make me feel any worse than I already do…" Pushing all thoughts of Jake – and _Haley_ – out of her mind she sputtered, "Daddy Dearest, here we come."


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**A/N:** I'm glad to know people are still reading! Thank you!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The dark orange disc of sun was setting on the horizon. From Brooke's vantage point, it looked like it was falling off the edge of the Earth. The sky above her looked like a gigantic bowl of melted ice creams: periwinkles swirling with creams and pinks and oranges. Her right hand was cupped and pressed to her belly. Every few moments, she would absently rub her thumb behind her fingers, creating a crinkling, grating sound, like someone walking on fine gravel.

"_I think you look cute!" Peyton bobbed her blonde head towards her boyfriend. "I think she looks cute. Don't you think she looks cute?" She nudged him with her elbow. "Tell her she looks cute."_

_Brooke rolled her eyes as she rotated a hundred-eighty degrees and found herself staring at her own reflection. She examined the cotton candy colored babydoll top she was modeling: it fit snugly around her waist and flared out like a mini dress over her jeans and had a quaintly square neckline, with tonal crochet and lightly puffed sleeves._

"_Nate," Peyton grumbled under her breath._

_Brooke could see Nathan's annoyed expression from the corner of the mirror. Blowing a strand of hair from her eyes, she turned and firmly shook her head. "It's so not me. It's not shiny or sparkly or-"_

"_Sexy?"_

"_Precisely."_

_Peyton folded her arms. "You can't stay sexy for nine months, you know."_

"_Doesn't mean I can't squeeze out my sexy until the last possible second." She flounced back into the dressing room and promptly pulled the top over her head and began to slide on the shimmery blue tank she'd worn into the mall. As soon as she was finished, she burst through the door and shoved a silver and wine colored V-neck blouse with peasant sleeves at Peyton. "You're turn!"_

_Reluctantly, the blonde accepted the offer and disappeared into the dressing room. "Silver isn't really my color," she called from behind the door._

"_And 'cute' isn't really my style, so we're even." She watched as one of the clerks glanced at them from behind the counter, which she returned with a scowl. She always hated to be rushed when she was shopping. "Hey," she announced. "I really am getting burnt out over here, Peyton. We've been here, what, three hours now?" She yawned, even though Peyton couldn't see her. "After this, will you be ready to call it a night?"_

"_What's gotten into you, B. Davis?" Peyton pushed open the door and walked out, striking sexy poses and turning dramatically to give her boyfriend and best friend every possible angle. "I think this shirt ages me about ten years."_

"_Fifteen."_

"_Thanks."_

"_So," Brooke persisted, "you ready to go?"_

"_You're not fun."_

"_It's been a long week."_

"_Brooke's right," Nathan spoke up, surprising both girls. "Besides, we have that exam coming up ing-"_

"_Since when do you care about exams?"_

"_Since Whitey's been threatening the team about keeping up our grades to stay on the team."_

"_Oh, fine!" she groaned, and promptly vanished back into the dressing room._

_Brooke narrowed her eyes, not believing the excuse. She turned her head to voice her suspicion when she found Nathan's face shockingly close to hers. Instinctively, she recoiled. "What-"_

"_We need to talk," he announced in a hushed tone._

_Her lashes fluttered out of confusion. "You've barely said anything all evening!"_

_Nathan pressed his fingers to his lips as he gave a sideways glance towards the dressing room, just as the door burst open and Peyton walked out with a handful of clothes slung over one arm and her purse on the other, with a hundred dollar bill in hand. "So you're through then?"_

"_Yeah, Oh Impatient One." She moved to the counter and laid the garments into two piles on the table: one hers and the other Brooke's._

"_Do you want to stop at the Dip N' Dots stand before we go?"_

_Both girls looked to Nathan with quizzical stares._

"_You've been pretty silent all afternoon," Peyton commented. "Now you want ice cream?"_

"_Are you in or not?"_

_Peyton shrugged. "Sure, just let me take care of this purchase first."_

_Nathan reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty. Turning to Brooke he said, "Why don't we meet you over there? There's always a line. I'll help Peyton with the bags."_

_Brooke narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Okay…" She turned to leave when he grabbed her hand and slid the money inside, allowing their hands to linger a moment longer than they should. "Thanks." She cupped her hand as she left the clothes store, rubbing her thumb against the paper until she reached the Dip N' Dots stand. She took her place in line. As she waited, she opened her palm and unfolded the twenty, revealing a small folded piece of white paper, that looked like it had been torn off the edge of something. She glanced back over her shoulder and then proceeded to unfold the slip._

The note lay in Brooke's palm, opened, revealing just a single line: _Meet me at the beach house at sunset._ She picked up the note by the edge of the paper and held it up and away from her face, closing one eye and using it to cover up the sinking sun. The words seemed to glow through the paper with the last of the sun illuminating them from behind. Brooke still couldn't wrap her head around it.

"I wasn't sure you'd come."

She shielded her eyes with her hand as Nathan jogged up the edge of the beach to her. "I'm still not sure why you asked me to."

"I wanted to talk."

"You said that."

"I tried to talk to you last week – a few times over the last couple weeks, in fact – but you've been pretty distant lately. Even more than usual, I mean." He looked down at his shoes. "Problems in paradise?"

"What're you insinuating?"

"Jake hasn't been around lately-"

"Is that the only reason you wanted to talk? Just to bring up Jake again?"

"No." Nathan rolled his shoulders up and down. "Jake is just an observation. I – I wanted to know how you've been," he glanced at her, "with the pregnancy I mean. I told you I want to be involved Brooke, as much as I can that is. The last time I tried to bring this up, you just got mad and threw mashed potato slop into my face-"

"You deserved it."

"Okay, fine, I admit, I was being an asshole…but still…"

"The baby's fine. I have another appointment in about a month."

"Is that the one where you find out the sex?"

"Mhmm."

"What are you hoping for?"

Brooke paused and slipped her feet out of her shoes. She bent down, grabbed her shoes by the straps, and dangled them on her fingers before continuing at Nathan's side. "Honestly? I don't know…"

"You haven't thought about it?"

"No, I have, I just can't decide. On one hand, doesn't every girl dream of having a daughter to dress up and be girly and teach all the secrets of life to? But on the other hand…" She dug her toes into the cold, wet sand. "On the other hand, taking a little boy to all his practices and taking his team out for pizza and punch after a win, it doesn't sound that bad either."

"I can't imagine you as a soccer mom," he said with a chuckle hidden in his words.

"Who said anything about soccer?" Brooke rolled her eyes. "Unless you've got some hidden talents I don't know about."

"You think he'd like basketball?"

"Seems to be a family trait."

"I guess," Nathan murmured, thinking of his father and half-brother.

"What do you want?" Brooke asked instinctively.

Nathan rubbed his hair. "Doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Maybe it matters to me."

He shrugged again. "I've always imagined my future with a son," he admitted. "But maybe a daughter would be better."

"Why's that?"

"To break the cycle."

"Cycle?"

"You know…Dan and Karen, now you and me."

"You're comparing me to Karen Roe?" she laughed out loud. "We didn't have an epic high school romance, remember?" She glanced over her shoulder at the beach house in the distance. Flashes of that fateful night beamed through her mind.

"Have you told your parents?"

"Why would I? I'm avoiding that conversation as long as possible. They'll be furious, no doubt, but what are they gonna do? They're rich…and they're never around…I can just use my credit cards and hire a sitter and I should be able to get along alright I think."

"So you're keeping it then?"

"I thought-"

"Peyton still seems convinced you're going to do adoption."

"I haven't really spoken with her about my plans. It's not an easy thing to talk about. Especially with her, even if she doesn't know it."

"I know the feeling." He turned towards the ocean as the water rushed up and splashed his shoes. "I think my parents are getting a divorce."

Brooke blinked at the admission. "And you're telling _me_?"

"As long as we're talking about parents," he muttered.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I mean, I'm not sure yet, but they seem to be fighting every night and my mother's kicked Dan out of their bedroom, he's currently in the guest room, so I figure it's only a matter of time. I think it's been coming for over sixteen years."

"So you're happy about it?"

"I don't know if that's the right word, but I can't say I'm sad."

"Looks like we've both got a lot of shit going on in our lives."

"What's new? Hasn't it always been like that for us?"

Brooke found herself nodding as she watched the last of the sun disappear into the water. She could hear the seagulls in the distance and feel the saltwater breeze against her bare skin. "Sometimes I wish I could have more moments like this in my life: the peace that comes with the setting of the sun."

"Yeah…" He glanced at her from his peripheral perspective. "Hey," he said slowly, "I'm glad we had this talk. Thanks…for coming." When she didn't say anything and instead he heard her suddenly inhale, he looked back. "Something wrong?" He could see her hand on her stomach. "Brooke?"

"It's moving," she whispered, her eyes reflecting the fading pastels of the sky. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly. "Do you…can you feel that?" For a millisecond, she almost thought she saw a smile on his lips.

Then he shook his head. "I can't, no."

"Oh…it's probably too small yet."

"What does it feel like?"

"Like…like air bubbles moving through water…or the rush of dropping off the log ride in Disneyworld for the first time…or…or the butterflies you get with your crush. You know what I mean?"

For an extended beat, he didn't say anything, he just kept his hand positioned to the raised oval of Brooke's belly. Then nodded slowly. "I do."


	30. Chapter Thirty

**A/N:** Another important chapter I've been waiting for…

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty**

Snip.

Snip.

Snip.

She awoke to the sharp pricks of hard plastic sliding down her face. When her eyes first opened, it was almost impossible to see in the darkness and she opened her mouth to scream when her bleary eyes adjusted and she saw a familiar face hovering over her. "Mother?"

"Hello, Brooke."

Brooke bolted upright, inadvertently knocking whatever was on her face into her lap and bed. She barely had time to register that her mother was walking away before blindingly bright flood flooded the room and burned her eyes. She slapped her hands to her face. "What the hell!"

"Your father and I have been saying the same thing."

She spread her fingers slightly, peeking between them and squinting as she tried to adjust her eyes to the brightness. "What are you…" she squinted at the clock, realizing it was almost three o' clock in the morning. "…doing here?" Easing open her fingers a little wider, she could make out her mother.

Victoria Davis folded her arms across her busty chest. She had a pair of scissors clutched in one of her manicured claws and a chunk of something else in the other hand, which could not be made out. Her hair was pulled back, stocked and conditioned with hair spray so that it would not move without consent, and she was dressed in a couture business suit as if she'd just gotten out of a board meeting.

Brooke batted her eyes a few times and pulled her hands back. She immediately looked down at her lap and picked up scattered pieces of gold and platinum. She held them up and realized with a look of horror, "My credit cards!"

Victoria's lips curved into a spiteful sneer. "You greedy little bitch! Did you really think you'd get away with it?"

She was barely listening to her mother as she gathered up all the chunky pieces of plastic and began to try and piece them back together like a puzzle. It was only went she felt Victoria grab her chin, grind her nails into her throat, and yank her face towards her did she start paying attention.

"I said: did you really think you could get away with it!"

"Get away with what!"

Victoria released Brooke's jaw and slammed her hand across her daughter's cheek. The smack sounded like a belly flop gone horribly wrong. The blazing handprint was already forming as she watched Brooke touch her hot skin in a feeble attempt to quell the burn. Satisfied, she grabbed a small stack of papers from Brooke's nightstand and threw them into her lap.

"What the fuck are these?" the teenager sneered. Her cheek felt like it was on fire and she hesitated to move her hand, for fear of another blow. Leaning slightly to the left, she picked up the papers with both hands and began to look them over.

"Your bills."

_My credit card bills_, she realized as she examined the typing. The purchases went on, page after page. _But they've never cared before! Why now? I've always bought anything I wanted and they just paid for it…_ She glanced at her mother, who looked like the devil in Gucci. "What do these have to do with anything?"

"My favorite is the last page."

Brooke pulled out the last page and as soon as she saw it, the blood stopped moving through her veins.

"You lying little whore! Did you think we wouldn't look at the bills from the insurance? _Did you!_" She latched onto Brooke's ponytail and yanked it so that Brooke was looking her square in the face.

"_No!"_

"Judging by the last appointment, your spawn must be what? Four months now?"

Brooke jumped off the bed, scattering the credit card pieces and bills everywhere. "Take it back!"

"Oh!" Victoria smirked, her jumping up and down Brooke's pinched up face in amusement. "Protective of the spawn, are you? Planning to keep it? Make your parents pay for your slutty little mistake? You probably don't even know who the sperm donor is, do you!" She thrust her hand against Brooke's chest, shoving her backwards onto her bed.

Brooke scrambled backwards across the bed, jumping off the other side and poising herself to run incase her mother tried to round the bed after her. "Fuck you!"

"No," Victoria snarled, "that would be what you do." She pointed an accusatory finger at her daughter. "And I've got news for you: you're not pawning off that mistake on us! All of the baby furniture and clothes you've wracked up on our bills have been canceled and sent back!"

"You – you can't force me to get rid of my baby!"

"I can't force you to get the abortion you so desperately need – not that you can even get one at this stage anyway – but that doesn't mean we have to be responsible for it either. You opened your legs, Brooke, and now _you_ have to deal with it." She stepped aside and pointed to a pathetic looking suitcase that looked like it had been picked off of a bum in a New York alley. She grabbed the soiled case by the handle and threw it onto Brooke's bed, then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small square object and flicked it beside the suitcase.

Hesitantly, the teen craned her neck to see the smaller object: a wrapped condom.

"Consider it a baby shower gift." Victoria directed her French manicured index finger at her daughter. "You have an hour to pack and by the time I get back, I want you out of my house!"

"What!"

"Did I stutter? I want you: Out. Of. My. House."

"You're – you're kicking me out!"

"You never have been the brightest bulb in the box, have you?"

"You can't do that!"

"Watch me!"

"I'm not eighteen!" she shrieked. "You can't do that! You're financially responsible for me until I'm of age!"

"Am I?" Victoria curled a finger through her hair with a mock look of consideration on her face. "Alright, fine. Pack the bag and be ready in an hour: I'll invoke my right to send you to boarding school."

"No!"

Victoria batted her eyelashes innocently. "What? Don't like that?" She ran her tongue across her lips like a snake. "You've got two choices Brooke: leave on your own or I go where I tell you. Either way, your hour starts _now_."

Brooke listened as Victoria's heels echoed down through the house until she slammed the door. She moved to her window just in time to see her mother board a taxi and take off. Her stomach churned and she raced for the bathroom, where she threw open the toilet lid and vomited the contents of her dinner from six hours earlier into the toilet. She wrapped her arms around the white bowl and closed her eyes while resting her cheek against the rim of the toilet. _Please be a dream. Please be a dream. Let me wake up. Just please let me wake up!_

But she didn't. The smell of the vomit coiled through her nostrils, instigating another wave of nausea. She hurled the remainder of her stomach acid into the basin and then weakly flushed the toilet once. Twice. Three times. Pulling herself up with the edge of the sink, she managed to grab her toothbrush, squeeze on a glob of peppermint paste, and begin scrubbing out her foul tasting mouth.

By the time she finished and stepped back into her room to check the clock, fifteen minutes had elapsed since her mother's departure. With her stomach still churning, she opened her closet and pulled out an extravagant merlot colored luggage set that she'd gotten last summer for her _family vacation_ to Europe. She began to unzip them one by one and stuff in as many pairs of clothes and shoes as she could fit.

Once done, she moved to her drawers where she pulled out a folder and opened it, revealing clothing design sketches. She tossed the folder onto her pile of clothes and then moved for her jewelry box, which she emptied into a shimmering heap on top of the design folder. Finally, she stopped at her last drawer where she opened it to reveal two folded onesies sitting side by side: the one with the yellow fuzzy bear and basketball and the lipstick red onesie with the black words _Mommy's Masterpiece_ hand stitched onto the front.

She struggled with each of the matching luggage until she came to the largest, which she had to straddle in order to pull the zipper closed. They were each physically pulling against the seems when she was done. Donning a jacket and grabbing her car keys and purse, and took one last look around her room, then turned back to her bed where the vulgar looking suitcase and condom lay. She opened her mouth and made a gurgling noise at the back of her throat, then hocked up a mouthful of loogie, and spat it onto the bag.

Finally, her eyes found their way back to the clock. "Five minutes to spare." She stacked her luggage bags on top of one another, pulled out the handle, and tilted the largest carrier back so that she could roll it. She struggled at first, then slowly began to gain momentum as she pulled it out the door. She fingered in the doorframe a minute, staring at her bedroom, then flicked off the light switch and began to thump the luggage down each step until she got to the bottom level of the house. Her heart was pounding as she crossed the threshold, shutting the red door behind her, and made it down to her VW Bug where she clicked the alarm and un-hatched the trunk to throw everything inside.

As Brooke pulled her seatbelt around her chest, she could see a pair of headlights in the distance. She pulled out onto the road and pressed a led foot to the gas pedal. Her car began to pick up speed as it whizzed down the road. Turning to look at the car coming the opposite direction, she caught sight of her mother seated in the back seat of the taxi. Their eyes met for a split second as the cars crossed paths and then they were gone.

Brooke careened around the corner, not even bothering to stop at the stop sign, and then slowed down as she got onto the main street. Her pulse was so fast she thought her veins might pop right out of her skin. With a defeated sigh, she reached for her purse and dug around for her cell phone, only then realizing it wasn't there. _"Shit!" _She slammed her foot on the brake, causing the car to screech and jerk to a stop at a yellow light. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" She slammed her fists against the wheel, honking the horn over and over into the dead silence of the barely-Monday morning.

Tears began to wriggle their way out of her eyes as the yellow light turned red, reflecting on her pale face. A part of her wanted to just slam on the gas and keep on going until she crashed. Another part of her wanted to just stop and surrender. _I'm sixteen, four months pregnant, have no boyfriend, and no place to go._ She felt the bile rising in the back of her throat again and swallowed to keep her gag reflex from striking. "I guess that makes me like any other knocked up teenager now."

The light turned green, but Brooke didn't budge. Her breath was coming out in fits and fogging up the cold window shield. She knew she only had one option and it made it even harder to keep the bile down. She eased her foot off the brake and onto the gas pedal and rolled through the intersection.

Ten minutes later she was standing on Peyton's front porch, surrounded by luggage, and knocking relentlessly on the door. She could see her breath in front of her face as she rubbed her hands together in a futile attempt to keep them warm.

The door opened a crack, revealing Peyton's squinty, sleepy eyed glare. "Brooke? It's after four in the morning! What are you doing here…" she noticed the luggage, "…and with all of _that_?"

"Bitchtoria kicked me out."

"What!"

"It's a long story," she whimpered. "Can I just come in? If you haven't noticed," she blew a puff of white air from her lungs, "it's freezing out here."

Peyton pulled back the door and tugged her robe tighter around herself as Brooke tugged in two out of three of her bags. The cheerleader grabbed the third and quickly locked the door. "What the hell happened?"

"They cut me off."

"I thought your parents were in L.A.?"

"They saw the insurance bills and they – or one of them, I don't know – flew out here and said I either get out or pack for boarding school…so I came here. I'm sorry, Peyton, I didn't know where else to go. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before! I've always been rich, I've always been secure…I never thought-" She stopped short when she found Peyton's arms around her. The frozen tears on her cheeks began to melt and she buried her face into her friend's shoulder and started to cry.

Peyton rubbed her back. "Hey, it's okay. Let's just get you upstairs to bed and we'll figure this out later, okay?" When Brooke reached for her bags, Peyton swatted her hand away. "No, leave it here. C'mon." She wrapped her arm around Brooke's back and lead her to her bedroom, where Peyton pulled back the covers and they both climbed in.

When they were both comfortably snug, Brooke edged her head over to lay on the edge of Peyton's pillow. "Thanks, P. Sawyer."

"Anytime, B. Davis. Now get some sleep."

Five minutes later their eyes were closed, but neither girl was resting.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**A/N:** This one's a bit shorter today, sorry 'bout that, but I've got lots and lots of end of the semester homework and the crappiness shows.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty-One**

"I'm going to get a coke, either of you two want anything?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

The answers came in perfect sequential order and Peyton laughed. "Suit yourselves," she replied and promptly disappeared into the crowd in search for a soda machine.

When he was sure she was gone, Nathan leaned across the lunch table. "Your mother kicked you out?"

Brooke stared down at the steamed carrots on her plate. "What does it matter to you."

"You know damn well what it matters to me!" he whispered, his voice reaching an alarmingly high whisper pitch. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Haven't seen you much today," the replied, still without meeting his eyes. "Not without Peyton around anyway. I'm assuming she told you? Of course she'd tell you, you're her boyfriend."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do?" she asked rhetorically.

"About the…you know."

"I don't know!" She met his eyes with an emblazoned scowl. "The thought that I'd be financially insecure never crossed my mind."

"So you're staying with Peyton?"

"I've got nowhere else to go. But I can't stay with Peyton forever." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, how would that work? Her dad comes back from the high seas for a week to find me breastfeeding in the living room?" Her hair flapped around her head like a flag in the wind. "Hell no!"

Nathan winced. He thought after their walk on the beach on Friday that things were finally starting to get better between them and now they were arguing again and the situation seemed worse than it ever had before. He didn't want to ask, but he knew he had to: "So what then? Are you…are you having second thoughts?"

"About…"

"You know what about," he glared.

"I," she picked up one of the steam carrots and nibbled on the edge of it, "don't know yet."

"You could get a job," he offered. As soon as he said it, a wave of guilt crashed over him. Thankfully, she didn't look up at him, but as he realized that, he wondered if her lack of eye contact was worse.

"Who would want to hire a pregnant teenager who's only skills are-" she looked up and waved her hands as if she were holding pom-poms "-'Go, Ravens! Go!' and spreading her legs?"

Without thinking about what he was doing, Nathan reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "Those aren't your only skills, Brooke."

The motion caught Brooke by surprise. She shifted her eyes to his hand on hers and then quickly pulled it away and looked above Nathan's head. She flashed a weak smile. "Find your coke?"

"They were out," Peyton replied, oblivious to what had just transpired. She slid onto the bench next to Brooke and popped the metal top on an orange can. "Only had Sunkist left." She took a sip and glanced between her friends, best and boy respectively. "You took look cozy," she joked. "What's up?"

"I was just telling Nathan about what happened with Bitchtoria," Brooke replied flatly.

"Do you have a savings account?" Nathan asked suddenly.

Brooke frowned. "Uh…I don't know," she mused.

"Well do any of your credit cards also function as debit?"

"Well that's a mute point; all my credit cards are scrap plastic now."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you couldn't go to the bank and withdraw any money in a savings account."

Brooke clicked her tongue against her teeth. "True," she conceded. "If I knew where this bank account was, if one exists at all." She scratched her head. "I just don't think it's worth it though. If I even do have one, you can bet that whore of a mother probably drained it already."

"Well for what it's worth, you're welcome to stay with me as long as you need to. You're kind of my unofficial roommate already anyway."

"Until your dad comes home."

"I doubt he'll mind," Peyton replied. "If you want, we can try to web conference him and explain the situation to him. I think he'd be more than happy to oblige."

Brooke cast a sideways look at Nathan, which went unnoticed by the blonde. "Sure. Whatever you want, Peyton."

Peyton wrapped her arm around Brooke's shoulder. "Well one thing's for certain: I'm not going to let you get thrown out on the streets." She squinted a little as she noticed Brooke looking into the distance and tilted her head back to figure out what the ex-cheerleader was staring at. She noticed Jake across the way, talking to Haley. Peyton gave Brooke's arm a little squeeze. "He's been gone a while, hasn't he?"

"Yeah," Brooke muttered, causing Nathan to finally turn and see what they were looking at.

"You should go talk to him," Peyton suggested.

"Why would I want to?" Brooke stabbed another steamed carrot with her fork and held it in front of her face. "Can't you see? He's busy with Tutor Girl."

"Tutor Girl?" Peyton scrunched up her face. "The girl she's talking to?"

"She's from the tutor center."

"How would you know that?" Nathan piped up.

Brooke shoved the fork into her mouth, buying time to figure out an answer as she chewed the carrot.

"I didn't know you went to tutoring."

"I don't…not usually," she half lied, "I've just been there a couple times and know who she is. Don't know her name," she lied again. "And I don't care to."

"Sounds like someone's jealous," Peyton mused. "You like him, don't you? I mean…we've all seen you hit on him before, but-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Peyton. He's not my type."

"You've hung out with him quite a bit…"

"We are so not going to get into this again." She picked up her tray and stomped off.

"Nice going, Peyton."

"What?" She tossed up her arms. "If Jake really is the father-"

"He's not the father."

"What? How do you know?"

"I talked to him, okay?"

"When?"

"I – in the locker room. A lot goes on there that you don't know about."

"He hasn't been to school for three weeks! How could you have possibly talked to him in the locker room?"

"It was before that." He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "Look, I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was any of your business since he said he's not the father, but since you're pressing the issue, I'm telling you now." He picked up his tray, just as the bell rang. "I've got a class to get to."

Peyton watched him stalk off and ran her hand through her billowing head of blonde ringlets. She shifted her eyes across the lunch area, very seriously considering the idea of going and speaking to Jake herself, but found that neither Jake nor Haley were there anymore. With a scowl, she picked up her tray and headed towards the cafeteria.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**A/N:** I wanted to update in the beginning of June, but I didn't have the chance to finish this story before I went on vacation, so here it is now.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

"Burger King, McDonald's, Wendy's…Great! Doesn't this town have any work besides fast food?" Brooke heard a throat clear behind her and turned around, where she saw Haley standing by one of the empty tables.

"Brooke," Haley smiled shyly. "I thought that was you."

Brooke pinched her lips together, smiling tartly without saying anything.

Haley shifted uncomfortably. "I'm Jake's tutor," she clarified uncertainly. "H-"

"_Jaley?"_

"Haley, actually."

Brooke nodded. "Right," she flashed two rows of white. "Did you need something?"

"Um, actually I was about to ask you the same thing. I noticed you were in the tutor center and I've never seen you here before-"

"Yeah," Brooke cut in. "I don't need tutoring, I'm fine thank you." She motioned to the cork bulletin board, pinned with so many flyers they were beginning to look like wallpaper. "I was told they'd have flyers here for…things. That's all I need: flyers."

Haley nodded. "Well what are you looking for, maybe I can help?" She took a step closer and motioned her hand. "Scholarships? Student loans? Textbooks? Jobs?"

A gruff snort erupted from the back of Brooke's throat. She mumbled something from the corner of her mouth without making eye contact.

"'Scuse me?"

Brooke mentally cursed having run into Tutor Girl. "The last one," she whispered through gritted teeth.

"Oh!" the dark redhead nodded cheerfully. She brushed her hand across the board, picking off various flyers and stacking them up in her hand before holding them out to Brooke. "You might want to check these ones out then. They've just been put up in the last couple days, so more likely than not, they'll still have openings available." She shook her head. "They really need to clean up this board. Some of these are so old they were here last year when I was looking for a job before my friend's mom gave me a waitressing position at her café."

"Thanks," Brooke muttered, keeping her head low to stare at the flyers in her hand. When she had walked in, she thought the last thing she wanted to do was be there searching for a job. _Correction: the last thing I want to do is be here talking to Jake's new girlfriend._

"Um," Haley fidgeted beneath her poncho. She held up her finger and turned to dig into her school bag, before pulling out what looked like a receipt, glanced it over, then grabbed a pencil and some scratch paper from the table and wrote something down. "You might want to check this place out too," she suggested. "It's a kids' store in the mall." She handed the scratch paper to Brooke, which had the address and phone number copied from the receipt. "I got Jake a kind of belated," she lowered her voice considerably, "baby shower gift there the other day." Her eyes danced around to make sure nobody had heard. "I'm not positive, but I think maybe I saw a 'Help Wanted' sign."

Brooke rubbed her thumb over the torn piece of paper. _She's such a sweet, shy little nerd and she's making it way too hard to hate her._ "Thanks," she repeated, this time a tone less sourly than the first. Of all the possibilities Brooke clutched between her fingers, the unofficial one was calling to her. _Stores usually have employee discounts, right? I mean, maybe if I worked there I could afford baby stuff and get a discount on top of it?_ The thought of budgeting gave her chills though. _My hands are so not made for the callous work of coupon clipping! God, I might even have to start shopping at Wal-Mart!_

"Haley?"

Haley glanced to her left and fingered her poncho nervously. "Hey, Patrick," she nodded towards an empty table in the corner of the tutor center. "Why don't you grab that spot over there? I'll be with you in a minute."

"Cool," Patrick muttered. He used his index finger to push the bridge of his glasses up his nose and wandered off to the aforementioned table.

"Well," Haley shifted, "it was nice seeing you again. Good luck, Brooke."

"Yeah, same." Brooke grasped the flyers Haley had given her with both hands and pretended to be examining them as she fled the tutor center. She glanced back just once as she got to the door, where she saw Haley chatting with Patrick as she slid into the chair next to him. She puffed a breath of air from her nostrils as she scurried down the hallway, out the double doors, and found her VW Bug.

The flyers fluttered haphazardly into the passenger seat and one teetered on the edge before falling to the floor mat as Brooke climbed into the passenger seat. She jammed the key into the ignition and pulled the seatbelt around her belly, then shifted her car into reverse and stepped on the gas. A car horn screeched and she switched over to the brake, which howled as the VW Bug jolted to a stop.

With a gasp, Brooke looked to her rearview mirror and saw a red convertible, which had barely avoided a crash. The blonde in the car held up her middle finger and mouthed something that Brooke couldn't hear, but was pretty positive she knew what it was anyway. "Right back at ya, sister!" she bellowed as the convertible screeched off down the car aisle. _"Bitch."_

Without further incident, Brooke took a left out of the school parking lot and found herself en route to the mall to see if the children's store really did have a career opportunity for her. She let her thoughts take over as she was driving – Jake, Haley, Peyton, Nathan, and the baby – until her reverie was lifted by the flashing of telltale red and blue lights.

"Please tell me you're joking!" Brooke glanced at the roof of her car, but the lights continued to flash in her rearview mirror. With a disgruntled breath, she flicked on her right blinker and pulled over to the curb, where the police car parked itself behind her. Knowing the drill, she reached into her glove box to retrieve her registration and pulled out her license from her purse just as the officer, a female, reached her window.

Brooke pushed her finger against the electronic button and the window descended. She flashed an appropriately white smile. "Hello, Officer Ma'am." Her dark eyes scanned the woman's badge. "Gillan. Look, I'm sure this must all be a huge misunderstanding, I know I wasn't speeding and there haven't been any stop signs or even other cars around for that matter, so…" She pushed her license and registration towards the woman. "If we can just take care of this as quickly as possible…I kind of have a possible job I need to get to."

"I'll need you to stay in the car," Officer Gillan spoke stoically. She accepted the documents Brooke provided and disappeared back to her black and white vehicle.

"This is just my luck," Brooke griped to the air around her. "Of course I'd get pulled over for _absolutely nothing _the same day I get kicked out of my house and cut off from my no good parents." She leaned forward and dramatically banged her forehead against rim of the steering wheel.

"Brooke Davis?" the officer asked, glancing between Brooke and her driver's license.

"Yes?" the latter asked, popping her head up eagerly. She held her hand out the window expectantly. "I'm glad we were able to-"

"I'm going to need you to step out of the vehicle."

"What?"

"Please," the officer spoke sternly, _"step out of the vehicle."_

"I think you've got the wrong idea," Brooke began to plead. But when Officer Gillan lifted her radio, Brooke threw up her hands. "Okay, okay!" She pushed open her door and stepped out. "I think I have a right to know what's going on here."

"This car has been reported stolen." Officer Gillan pressed her hand to Brooke's back, pushing her onto the side of the VW Bug. "Please spread your arms."

"Stolen?" Brooke echoed in a whisper, absently obliging as the officer began to frisk her. Then her eyes widened. _"Bitchtoria!"_

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing!" Brooke hiccupped, as the officer took her hands and drew them together behind her back before clasping them with a pair of silver handcuffs. _I'm going to kill her! When I see that lying, slinking whore of a mother again I'm going to make her regret-_ "Oogh!" She winced as she thumped her head against the doorframe as she was herded into the back of the squad car. "What's going to happen to my car?"

"A tow truck's on the way to retrieve the vehicle, where it will be taken to the Tree Hill tow yard until the owner comes down to claim it."

_Good luck with that one! Bitchtoria will probably just leave it there to torture me._ Then a terrible realization crossed her mind. "What about my purse? My belongings? I have things in there-"

"I don't handle that," the officer interrupted as she slid into the driver's seat. "You will have to take that up with the officers at the precinct."

"Oh." _A lot of help you are!_ "Thanks." Brooke wriggled her wrists against the backseat. It wasn't the first time she'd been in handcuffs, but never under these circumstances. In fact, she'd never been arrested before. Not that she hadn't been caught doing something she should've been arrested for, she just had never been sent to jail because of it. Ironically, the first time she was being driven off in chains, it was for something she was completely innocent of. _Karma's a bitch._

Twenty minutes later, Brooke found herself being lead down a corridor towards her awaiting cell by a new officer whose name she hadn't caught. She fought against the cuffs as she followed him. _Can you sue for blistering and chaffing? And does wrongly being placed in lock up give me a valid homework excuse?_ Then a thought occurred to her. "Wait a minute! I have a phone call, right? A phone call?" She rattled her cuffs to get the guard's attention, who stopped and turned to look at her. "That's always the way it is in the movies," she continued desperately. "One phone call!"

The guard sighed. "You waited until we were almost there to ask?" he questioned, annoyed.

"Damn kids these days," one of the inmates from a nearby cell popped up. "I tell ya!"

"Excuse me!" Brooke hissed. "Private conversation here. Don't you have time to be serving? Why don't you focus your energies on that?"

The officer motioned her in a semi-circle and led her back down the way they'd come, with an added left then right turn, where they found themselves at a desk with a handset telephone. He motioned his hand. "Hurry it along, now."

"This is nice," Brooke said as she awkwardly picked up the phone with both hands. "I guess I was expecting rotary or something." She didn't see him, but she was sure she heard him scoff at the comment. Quickly, she dialed in the only number she could think of and lifted the phone to her ear, wincing at the odd angles her arms were in at having to hold the phone together.

Five rings later, a familiar sound picked up: "Hey, it's Peyton, I can't get to my cell right now. Leave me note and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

If a wall had been close enough, Brooke would've banged her head into it. "Look, Peyton, it's me, Brooke. I'm in a bit of a situation right now. If you could just come down to the police station and help me out, I'll explain everything…and please bring some money for bail. Thanks!"

As soon as she disconnected, the guard was there to collect the phone from her hands and replace it in its charger. "Come on, Missy. No more distractions." The old guard summoned her to follow him again, this time all the way back to her new temporary dwelling. He unlocked the cell, ushered her inside, then locked it and removed her cuffs after she pushed her hands through the opening.

Brooke rubbed her raw wrists, wishing she had lotion. At least the few topmost layers of skin had come off and one of her wrists had an unsightly blister right above the protruding wrist bone. When the guard was gone, she flounced down onto the cot with a huff, only to wince at the _thump_ she received in return, instead of the bounce back of a mattress that she was used to.

_Great! Now I have a bruised ass, ego, and wrists and Peyton probably won't even get my message until tomorrow. _She leaned back, resting her shoulders and head against the cold cement walls. _I'd like to know how things could possibly get worse, but if I ask that, somehow, someway, they will, that's just the rules of the universe._

"So what're you in here, Princess?"

Brooke scowled in the general direction of the voice. She couldn't see him from her vantage point on her cot, but she knew it was the same noisy jailbird who had offered his two cents earlier. "For taking a bazooka to the groin of the last guy who called me _Princess_." She waited for a response, but was pleasantly surprised to receive none. Just then, her stomach growled and she shook her head decided to lie down on the cot, while hugging the only pillow to her hungry pregnant belly.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**A/N:** Second update today.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty Three**

"Brooke?"

The ex-cheerleader opened her eyes to find an attractive hazy figure standing just beyond the bars. She rolled over and groaned loudly at the pain caused by the hard cot. "Am I dreaming?"

"I'm here to bail you out."

"Nathan?" Brooke realized as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. Sure enough, Nathan Scott was standing on the other side of the cell. She hopped up and moved to the bars, grasping them with both hands. "Where's Peyton?"

"She's not here."

"What? But-"

"You explain, then I'll explain," he bargained before waving over the same guard who had locked her up.

"Don't go around hijacking anymore cars now, Missy," the officer jokingly chastised.

Brooke noticed Nathan's eyebrow raise curiously, even though he didn't say anything. She smiled falsely and grabbed Nathan by the sleeve of his letterman's jacket. "Let's get the hell out of here!" she hissed through gritted teeth. She was positive she'd never walked faster in her life than she did in that police station and once they got out to the parking lot, she scanned the area for Nathan's car but didn't see it.

"I took the bus," he explained.

Brooke blinked. "Why would you-" She shook her head. "Never mind. Driving to the police station with a permit would've been a level of stupid even you wouldn't attempt." She shook her head. "So where do we go?"

"I thought we could walk and talk."

"Great." She exhaled. "I'm starving and I ache all over and you want to talk. By the way, why are you here anyway?"

"I said I'd explain after you," Nathan shot back. "Ladies first."

"Asshole."

"I'm not the one who was behind bars."

"Only because daddy has always bailed you out before you got there," Brooke snapped. The look on his face afterwards made her regret the comment though. She ran her hand through her hair. "Bitchtoria struck again, okay? She called in my car as stolen and I got pulled over and," she shrugged helplessly. "Here I am. Carless and homeless and jobless. Now: your turn."

"Peyton left her cell in my room the other night," he replied and even though he didn't want to, he noticed Brooke's look of disgust at whatever mental image she was getting. "Anyway, I forgot to give it back to her today and when I got home-"

"You snooped through her calls?"

"No, the missed call was blinking and I wasn't going to bother with it until I noticed you left an 'Urgent!' numeric page, so I decided to listen and that's when I decided to come down here."

"Oh." Brooke stared down at the blacktop guiltily as they walked. "So how much did it cost to bail me out? How much do I _owe_ you?"

"Don't worry about it."

Brooke narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry, did you just say-"

"_Don't worry about it."_

"Why?" She stopped and placed her hands on her hips. "Where did that money come from? What did you do to get it?"

"It…it's some money I had saved up in a savings account, okay?"

"And why would you just give it to me?" Brooke demanded, her voice becoming higher and higher.

"Look!" Nathan finally snapped. "We've been at odds constantly lately and I know I'm your least favorite person in the world, but can't you just be happy with something I've done for once? I'm not asking you to pay me back, Brooke. I've already gotten you into enough of a mess as it is, so can you please just accept what I'm trying to do now at face value?"

Brooke was stationary. After their earlier confrontation at lunch, he was the last person she'd wanted or expected to end up at the police station to bail her out and she'd certainly not been expecting the speech that had come along with it. "Okay."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, well, thanks for bailing us out."

Nathan tilted his head, catching a quick glance at Brooke's belly. It was only a split second, but it was enough for Brooke to notice, even though the action hadn't even registered with Nathan himself yet. He scratched his head. "So what now?" he asked. "You wanna catch the bus home? Uh, I mean back to Peyton's?"

"Actually," Brooke shrugged her shoulders up and down. "The mall isn't that far away, just a couple streets down. You wanna walk?"

"To the mall?" he clarified skeptically.

"It's uh…" The ex-cheerleader rolled her eyes dramatically. "It's actually for a job application. _Maybe._ Depends on whether this place is hiring or not. That's where I was going when I got pulled over."

Nathan shrugged. "I guess, sure. I've got nothing going on the rest of the evening and the only thing I have to look forward to when I go back home anyway is my fighting parents, so…" He shoved his fists in his pockets and shuffled his feet. "What kind of job?"

Brooke resisted the urge to look at him again, for fear that he might think she was staring. But the tone of his voice made her almost positive he was asking out of sincere curiosity. _I swear, Nathan Scott is effing bi-polar!_ Absently, she touched her stomach. _Does that run in families? Not that…not that we're a family, but still…I know what I mean!_ She rolled her eyes at the incessant little voice in her head; sometimes she could scarcely believe it was really her talking – thinking – to herself. "I don't even really know," she muttered. "I guess it's a kid's store or something, Haley recommended it."

"Haley?"

"Yeah," Brooke replied. "Tutor Girl. The one that Jake was talking to at lunch today."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I happened to run into her after class and she mentioned it." Not wanting to delve into the details she skipped on, "If I could get a job there I was thinking that could be really good, you know? Because that would be an income and probably an employee discount and it would be on kid's stuff and you know I'm gonna need that, especially since Bitchtoria returned everything I'd purchased online."

"Do you still have the-" Nathan trailed off.

"Do I still have what?"

"Nothing."

Brooke licked her lips. "The onesie you gave me?" Nathan's look was all she needed as confirmation. "Yes. Don't worry, that was one of the things I packed before I left."

"Good," he said nonchalantly. "I'm glad." They came to a halt at the crosswalk. Nathan pressed the button as he asked, "So all you have for the baby is a onesie?"

"No." Brooke pushed her hair in front of her face. "Two onesies."

"That's it?"

"That's all she wrote."

The green walking man appeared on the screen across the street and Nathan motioned his arm. Together they took off across the white lines at a brisk pace and halfway through, it changed to a red hand again. Both of them chuckled at the same time as they picked up the speed and ran to the other side.

"You'd think whoever makes those things would know that normal people can't get all the way across a street in five seconds."

"When I was a kid I used to make it my personal goal to try and beat them; scared the crap out of my mom every time I let go of her hand and ran off by myself."

Brooke smiled sheepishly. "At least your mom wanted to hold your hand. With mine," she sagged her shoulders, "if I'd gotten hit by a car, probably the only thing that would've upset her is that she'd have to waste her time filing a witness report."

"Sounds like your mother and my father have a lot in common."

"Maybe they'd make a cute couple?" Brooke shivered. "On second thought, I take that back. Imagine the demon spawn they could produce!"

"A match made in hell."

"It'd make the Devil himself piss his pants."

"No kidding."

Brooke twirled a strand of her brunette hair between her fingers and her voice turned serious: "Was there ever even once when your father wasn't a miserable bastard?"

"I – I don't know. My mom says there was once upon a time when we were friends, but I can't recall any. I guess if there are any, I've blocked them all out with hate." Without thinking about it, he pulled the door open as they approached the front of the mall and waited for Brooke to walk inside.

"You know," Brooke mused, "sometimes I think you're the one who's pregnant."

"Should I even ask why you would say that?"

"Because you're the one with the mood swings." She chuckled at Nathan's glare. "Nathan Scott 'is like a box o' chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get,'" she mimicked in her best Forest Gump voice.

He caught himself staring at the way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she laughed at him. He thought about saying something smart and rude in his own defense, but ultimately decided to let it slide. Things happened to be going something, a far cry from lunch, and he didn't want to risk screwing it up. "So where's this store you were talking about?"

"Dunno." Brooke pointed to the mall directory and wandered over with Nathan not too far behind. She traced her finger along the board until she found the _You Are Here_ sticker, then used her other index finger to scroll down the menu to find the children's stores. "I bet it's this one: Mommie's Designs." She traced up the map. "Okay, got it, this way." She pointed and took off into a sprint. It was already late, at least as far as the mall was concerned. But the smell of sweet, sticky Cinnabon lulled her to a dull scuttle, allowing Nate to catch up with her.

"What's with the face?"

"Face? What face?"

"The, 'Oooh, I want it so bad!' mushy face."

"I don't have that kind of face." At his undeterred look, she frowned. "Okay, fine, the Cinnabon is alluring, okay?" She pointed. "This way." As the smell wafted away, she picked up her face, shifting her eyes from side to side to find the store name.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom," Nathan suddenly announced.

Brooke frowned, a bit disappointed. "Sure. Whatever, just don't leave without me." As he disappeared down the hall marked with the restroom symbols, she took a few more paces and finally came upon Mommie's Designs. Much to her relief, she moved to the glass door and pulled, only to find it locked. With annoyance, she grabbed the other one, just to find it locked too. "No! No, no, no!" she hit the doors, but couldn't see anyone inside. Then she looked at the hours and lifted her eyes to the clock on the wall in the store. It was ten after five and they closed at five o' clock. Brooke slumped her head against the door and muttered profanities to herself. When she looked up, she yelped and jumped back as she saw a woman staring back at her.

The woman opened the door. "I'm sorry, but we're closed-"

"I know," Brooke spoke dejectedly. "I just saw that."

"If you come back tomorrow-"

"I just heard that maybe you had a job opening, I came to get an application, but-" She glanced around for a Help Wanted sign, but didn't see one. "I guess the girl that recommended it was wrong."

"Who recommended us to you?" the woman inquired.

"Uh, Haley. Haley James, she goes to my-"

"Haley!" The woman's face was all sunshine as she spoke Haley's name. "Oh, she's a wonderful girl! You're friends with her? She tutors my niece. Lovely, lovely girl," she repeated giddily. "Well here, just one second." She shut the door and Brooke could see her go over to the counter, bend down and dig around, then come back and hold out a sheet of paper. "Here's the application. Any friend of Haley's is certainly welcome to apply. By the way," she added as she held out her hand, "my name's Melanie, I'm the co-owner."

"Oh," Brooke nodded numbly. She shook the woman's hand. "Thank you. Uh, and I'm Brooke."

"It's nice to meet you, Brooke." She nodded. "I'll be looking forward to reviewing your resume."

"Resume." Brooke repeated. She smiled weakly. _I haven't got a resume. Are you kidding me?_ She fluttered her eyelashes and nodded. "Sure. Can't wait!"

"I'll see you later." The woman wiggled her fingers and slipped back into the store.

Brooke turned and began to walk away, gripping the job application a little more loosely than she had at first. Suddenly things weren't looking as up as she'd hoped. "Can you put almost-cheer captain on a resume?"

"What?"

"Huh?" Brooke looked up to see Nathan coming towards her. "Nothing." She waved the paper at him. "Got the application; don't got the resume."

"You need a resume to work in a mall?"

"Apparently."

Nathan pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a little box with a large, oozing Cinnabon. "Does this help?"

"Cinnabon!" Brooke jumped up and down and giddily took the Cinnabon. "You jerk, you didn't really go to the bathroom, did you?" She lifted the fork to her mouth, then paused. "Or did you? Did you wash your hands before you got this?"

"No, I didn't go to the bathroom," he snorted.

"Thank you!" she suddenly threw her arms around his neck.

Nathan fidgeted under Brooke's grasp. "And _I'm_ the one with mood swings."

"Sorry," Brooke mumbled embarrassedly. "But thank you." She shoved a forkful of Cinnabon into her mouth and savored it.

Nathan watched her delight, paying close attention to the way the runny frosting glazed her lips as she chewed, before her tongue slipped out and licked it away. He shook his head. "It's getting late," he said suddenly. "We should get to the bus stop before we're forced to catch the late bus."

"Mhmm," Brooke mumbled through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

They headed out the way they came and wandered in almost silence on their way to the bus stop. The only thing Nathan could hear was the sound of Brooke's little moans and smacking of her lips as she ate her Cinnabon. When they finally reached the bus stop, the bus was just pulling up. Nathan pulled out his wallet as they climbed on and dropped the allotted payment into the slot. He slid into the seat after Brooke and sat quietly as the bus grunted and pulled away from the stop.

"Thanks for everything," Brooke said a minute and a half later, as she finished running her fingers over the sides of her Cinnabon container and licking the frosting off them. "All things considered, I actually had a good time at the end."

Nathan nodded, a million things going through his head at once. "Yeah," he agreed absently. "Me too."


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**A/N: **I think I warned about this before, but I don't know what Nathan's canon DOB is, so if anyone does know his DOB, it may or may not mesh up with his DOB in this story. And I'm not so sure how many of you will like this chapter. I was going to put up a secondary chapter with it, but I'm not quite done with it. Just too much BS in my life and I can't seem to buckle down and do one thing. I'm so out of my head right now.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

"Babies are like fish."

"Huh?"

"They breathe amniotic fluid; they're like a fish in water. Isn't that weird? And kind of creepy."

"A huh."

"And did you know, my baby's ears are hardening this month? It means she or he could start hearing sounds in there."

A grunt sounded from the bed, followed by a rustling of sheets, before Peyton rolled over and shoved her pillow over her head. When Brooke continued to chatter on, she finally lifted the corner of the pillow enough to talk and grumpily questioned, "Don't you have something you should be doing? Like sleeping?"

"Actually, I've been trying to work on that 'resume' all night, but every time I open up the blank Word document, I get discouraged. You know, it's amazing the kind of things you can learn when you're procrastinating."

"It's amazing the kind of contempt you can feel when you're sleep deprived."

"I love you too, P. Sawyer."

"What has got you so goddamn chipper anyway?"

"You mean in spite of being homeless, carless, broke, pregnant, and leeching off of my best friend at sixteen?" Brooke shrugged. "I dunno…I guess I just…" she absently ran her fingers through her hair. "…like cinnabons."

"What?" Peyton grumped. "See, now I know you're just as tired as me, because you make no sense."

"Yeah," Brooke smiled sympathetically. "I know." She closed out the Internet window and found herself once again staring at a blank Word document. With a sigh, she closed out of that too, proceeded to close down the computer, and then bounded across the room and landed with a bouncy series of thumps on the bed. With a giggle, she snuggled up under the covers and wedged her face under Peyton's pillow.

"You're absolutely not going to let me go to sleep, are you?"

"We can't sleep and we need company."

Peyton turned her head to face Brooke, only half opening her eyes. "What is it?" she groaned. "What's on your mind?"

"A lot of stuff, hence the problem. What I need is a distraction. Distract me."

Peyton muffled something into the mattress, then yawned and scrunched her eyes up. "Uh…I'm thinking about throwing Nathan a surprise party."

"His birthday isn't until next month."

"Yeah, well, I'm thinking ahead…and that seems to be the only thing I can think of that doesn't relate to what you're going through right now, so…"

Brooke rolled her eyes at the irony. "A surprise party though? It doesn't really seem like his thing." She played along.

"Well he likes parties, you know that."

_Better than you know._ "My turn to say: _a huh_."

"And anyway, he's been really stressed out lately and pretty touchy if I ask him about it. I think it's got to do with all the bullshit with his mom and dad. From what I've got out of him, the fighting is just getting worse and his mom actually kicked his dad out of the house the other night."

"I…had no idea."

"Yeah, well, I just figure that maybe a surprise party will get his mind off things for a night, y'know?"

"That's a nice idea, P. Sawyer." She patted her friend on the shoulder and opened her mouth to make say something else when she noticed Peyton had finally fallen asleep. With a disappointed exhalation of breath, she rolled her head out from under the pillow and onto her back, where she rested her hands in a pile over her belly, and stared in boredom at the shadowy ceiling for the next four hours.

By the time the early wisps of light began to filter between the blinds, Brooke crept out of bed and tip toed to her luggage, where she pulled out a peachy pink silk baby doll top with copper crepe beaded trim and a pair of white cigarette cut jeans. She slipped into the bathroom and changed, utilizing a thick clothes pin to keep her pants up, which wouldn't zip nor button across her growing belly. Once secure, she let the billowy fabric of her top fall across the top of her pants, effectively hiding the ill fitting jeans and her baby bump.

Next, she collected her purse and backpack, and padded out of the house long before the alarm clock was set to go off. Once outside, she rubbed her arms at the rigid temperature of the early morning air and tried to think of warm things like hot cocoa and freshly sliced Thanksgiving turkey slathered in gravy. It distracted her all the way to the public bus stop – because she would not be caught dead taking the school bus – but found her stomach growling by the time she sat down on the bench and she silently cursed herself for not having thought to grab at least a granola bar from the kitchen before she left.

Twenty minutes later, she boarded the bus and paused beside the driver to survey the seats. It was mostly empty, except for a few scattered people that she deduced looked rather homeless. _Of course I guess looks are relative_, she thought bitterly. _I'm homeless and I don't look like any of them._

"Take a seat, kid, we don't got all day."

With a scowl, Brooke sauntered to the middle of the bus and slid into an empty seat, where she pressed her forehead to the glass and stared out at the rushing asphalt for the next four stops. She was almost in a daze when she felt the seat incline and whipped her head around in surprise.

"I thought that was you. You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

Brooke scrunched up her face, took a quick glance out of the window before the bus began to move again, and then rotated her head back to the girl beside her. "What are you doing here?"

Haley winced a bit at the question. "Uh…"

"This is near Jake's house," Brooke spoke pointedly. "You don't live near here, do you?"

Haley shifted her backpack in her lap uncomfortably. "No, I-"

"You spent the night," Brooke cut in, with a pointed finger and a nod.

"It's not like that!" Haley replied, inviting a few looks. She blushed and fluffed her long burnt red hair around her face to hide the burn in her cheeks. "It's not like that," she said again in a low tone. "His parents were home. Mine knew where I was. Jenny has a cold and so she was constantly up and crying last night, so even though his parents tried to take her off our hands, it was still taking us a long time to study because he couldn't concentrate and he's got this huge test today, so before we realized it, I'd missed the last night bus." She rubbed her cheek in embarrassment. "I slept on the couch," she added with emphasis.

Brooke searched Haley's face and realized the girl had to be telling the truth. With a little sigh, she nodded to show she believed her. Not knowing what to say, she just blurted out, "I hope he does well." Then as an afterthought, she realized Haley had said Jake's parents had taken Jenny off _our_ hands, as opposed to _his_, and cursed herself for noticing the subtle pronoun. She turned her attention back to the window, just as she heard Haley speak again.

"So what're you doing here?" she asked timidly. "I've never seen you on the bus before. Where's...Peyton?"

She could hear the hesitation in her voice as Haley paused before saying her friend's name. It was no secret that Haley palled around with Nathan's half brother at school and silently she figured that might be the reason. "Sleeping. I – I needed to get something done at school and I didn't want to wake her up, she had a long night."

"Oh. Project? Essay?" she asked brightly.

"Uh…" Brooke sighed and half rolled her eyes. "No. It's the, uh, the_ job _that you told me about a few days ago."

"Oh!" Haley nodded enthusiastically. "That's great! Did you apply?"

"I filled out the application, but…but I need a resume and – and I don't know what the hell to put on it."

Haley grinned. "Resumes are a little tricky the first time you create one. My dad's got a good template on his computer for them though." She glanced down at her watch. "I'm on my way home to change and grab a bite. If you wanted, we could see what we could do about working on one before school."

Brooke opened her mouth to decline the offer, when her growling stomach reminded her of what she didn't get before she left. She curled her fist and lightly bumped it against her lips as Haley babbled something about her mother's blueberry buttermilk pancakes and before she realized what she was doing, she heard herself saying, "Okay."

"The house is a little chaotic right now," Haley admitted self consciously. "One of my older brothers was visiting this week with his wife and kids and things got a bit crazy. Sorry in advance for the mess."

"Can't be worse than my mess."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Brooke shook her head as Haley rattled on, something about a large family and being the youngest and having crazy parents. She held back a sarcastic laugh. _Tutor Girl, you don't know the first thing about crazy parents._

Haley suddenly placed a hand on Brooke's shoulder. "This is it!" she chirped and hopped up from her seat.

Broke begrudgingly followed her down the aisle and almost tripped coming off of the steps. She surveyed the house with a skeptical eye as they approached the front door. As soon as Haley swung it open, a warm swoosh of sizzling griddle batter, melted butter, and maple syrup blew into her face and her stomach cried in response. As she followed Haley inside, she caught the sound of footsteps scurrying around the corner.

"So Haley Bob spent the night at a boy's house who wasn't Lucas!" A singsong voice taunted, followed by the appearance of a brunette who resembled Haley, though with brown hair, a more pointed chin and nose, and tiny eyes

Brooke had no idea who the girl was, but she immediately recalled that she periodically saw her around campus with a camera in her hand. As soon as the girl saw her, however, she stopped and the look she threw to Haley did not go unnoticed by her.

"Shut up, Quinn!" Haley snapped, her face flushing again.

"Quinn, stop embarrassing your sister!" another female voice chastised from the other room. Moments later, a blonde walked in with a pleasant smile on her face and looked a bit surprised to see Brooke, though remain unfazed. "I didn't realize we had company."

"If it's inconvenient, I can-"

"Nonsense!" The blonde thrust out her hand. "Lydia James, Haley's mom."

Brooke forced a smile. "Brooke Davis." From the corner of her eye, she noticed Quinn mouthing something to Haley, though she couldn't tell what.

"She's a…a friend," Haley stuttered. "Jake introduced us. She was on the bus this morning; I was going to help her with something on the computer."

"Wonderful!" Lydia gushed. "I'm used to making breakfast for a large brood, so we've got more than enough if you'd like to eat with us."

"Mom…" Quinn grumbled from behind.

"Haley, why didn't you introduce your sister?" Lydia chastised. She motioned her hand between Brooke and Quinn. "This is my other daughter, Quinn."

"Hi," Quinn muttered without offering a hand.

"Mmm, hi," the ex-cheerleader greeted in reply.

"Quinn, why don't you go show Brooke where the kitchen is?" She laid her hand on Haley's shoulder. "I'd like to talk to Haley for a minute."

"Sure."Quinn motioned her hand. "This way…"

Brooke awkwardly followed Quinn to the kitchen, where the latter irritably pointed out where the plates, cups, and silverware were before she snatched up a pancake from the top of the snack, rolled it up like a burrito, and left the room and Brooke to her own devices. "This was a bad idea," she growled as she grabbed a plate and took two of the steaming cakes off the top of the stack, before lathering them in butter and pouring on some smoldering syrup from the ceramic syrup pitcher that looked like it had come straight off the kitchen table of an old fifties' movie. Just as she grabbed a knife and fork from the drawer, Haley and Lydia reemerged in the room.

"Sorry about that," Haley replied as she collected her breakfast.

"How is it?" Lydia asked brightly.

"Oh, uh, haven't tried yet, actually."

"Hopefully you like. My kids seem to." She winked. "So you're a friend of Jake's, then?"

"Yeah."

"Mom!"

"What? I'm just asking. He's a nice boy," she nodded. "Granted, I've only had the chance to meet him once when I picked Haley up for a dentist appointment, but he seems like he's got a good head on his shoulders."

"Yeah, Jake, he's something else," Brooke agreed. Before she could be bombarded with anymore questions, she quickly shoveled a mouthful of pancakes between her lips and closed her eyes, savoring the food. _Is this the first time I've ever had a meal that wasn't prepared by a maid or a restaurant?_ Her stomach agreed as the aches of hunger subsided. She barely noticed when Haley joined her at the table and had finished in less than half the time it took Haley.

"Well aren't you a good eater," Lydia laughed. "Seconds?"

"Uh, no," Brooke rubbed her belly. "I'm fine, Mrs…"

"James."

At the same time Haley spoke, Lydia wagged her finger and said, "Lydia. Just call me Lydia." She collected Brooke's plate and took it over to the sink.

"Thank you!" Brooke called back.

Moments later, Haley finished up her food and beckoned Brooke out of the room, where she led her through a winding path through the messy home until they reached computer, located in the living room, and switched it on. As they waited, she developed a remorseful look on her face. "Sorry about my family. They're…" she shook her head as the screen lit up and then she clicked a few things, before pulling up the resume program she'd told Brooke about earlier.

Brooke slid into the chair at Haley's prompt and glanced at the time, noting that they still had an hour and a half before school started. _Peyton should be effectively pissed about now_, she surmised.

"Do you have any work experience?"

Brooke bit back her sarcasm. "No."

Haley nodded. "Well, that's okay. I didn't when I first applied for Karen." She bit her lip in thought. "Well, we can pad this with your personal successes then. What achievements have you made at school?"

_Well aren't you a lot of help? You know full well what my successes are, don't you?_ She wanted to thump her head against the screen, but restrained herself. "I was on the cheer squad…almost captain next year."

Haley nodded thoughtfully. "Well, okay, we can work with that. I mean, cheerleading takes…dedication, right? That's a positive asset that an employer looks for. And what about your grades? What kind of GPA do you have? That's also something you can put on there. And if you've taken any courses that might compliment the job you're applying for, that's also a highlight."

"I took a required Home Ec. class last year."

"Do you speak any other languages?"

_Besides bullshit?_ "No."

"Have you ever done any volunteer-"

"I knew this was a bad idea. You don't even know me, but you knows these questions are-"

"Not everyone has work experience, Brooke. But everyone does have to start somewhere. Maybe for you, that needs to be with a good, earnest introduction to explain your position?" She motioned to the screen. "Why don't you start with just typing out why you think you'd be good at the position and why you want it?"

Brooke sighed and leaned back into the chair. After a moment, her fingertips blew like fire across the keyboard and a paragraph started to emerge. When she was done, a few red and green squiggles were spaced about the words, and the brunette fidgeted as Haley leaned over to investigate the words.

"That's…that's good. It's a start, we can clean that up and maybe fatten it up a bit, but it's a good jumping off point." She pulled over the foot rest and at down beside Brooke. "Let's start with spell check and grammar ascetics and then we can work on filling out the whole page…"

Fifty-six minutes later, the sweet sound of the printer permeated Brooke's eardrums. As frustrated as she'd been at the beginning, she felt almost as satisfied now. The resume was certainly no gem, but at least it filled the entire page, as Haley had promised. Brooke still wasn't entirely sure what kind of magic the tutor had performed, but whatever it was, she was grateful.

"Here you go!" Her eyes flicked to the time on the corner of the screen. "And just in time, too. We-"

"Gotta get going, Hales!"

Haley glared as Quinn sprinted into the room with her backpack over one shoulder and her camera hanging around her neck. "We're done, okay?" She glanced at Brooke and then back at her sister. "You don't mind dropping Brooke off too, do you?"

Brooke avoided Quinn's gaze as the elder girl surveyed her. She heard a guttural noise, which she assumed was Quinn's bitter agreement, and then looked up just in time to see Quinn disappear from the room.

"Sorry about her," came Haley the quick apology. "She's…she's just…naturally like that. It's her senior year, so she seems constantly unnerving." She licked her lips. "Give me just a sec to run upstairs and grab my tape recorder for my English class and then we can go."

"Sure." Brooke ignored Haley as she walked off, instead choosing to slide her freshly inked resume into her school folder and slip it into her backpack. Just as she rose from her seat, she spotted Lydia walking towards her, and plastered a fake smile onto her face. "Thanks again for breakfast-"

Instead of responding, Lydia held out a small plastic bag. At Brooke's confusion, she nodded. "This is for you. I think it might be of some use. I know they're a little old – and don't feel obligated to use them – but in case you do, I hope they help."

"Uh…" From her peripheral perception, she spotted Haley jog back in. "Thanks." She snatched up the bag and trotted over to Haley, who flashed a smile and parted a simply goodbye, before turning on her heel to race out the door. The cold wasn't as tart as it had been earlier, but it still produced an army of goose bumps as Brooke made her way to the backseat of the old station wagon Quinn that was running in the driveway.

After taking her seat next to Haley and waiting for Quinn to pull out, Brooke discreetly peeled open the plastic bag Lydia had given her and noticed it contained a stack of clothing. Curiously, she wriggled her hands through until she found one of the tags and surveyed it, before realizing that they weren't just any clothes, they were old maternity clothes.


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**A/N: **Thanks, **Jess**! Glad you're still on board! (By the way, is it just me, or is anyone else not getting their author/story alert e-mails?)

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

"I am _so_ sorry I'm late!" Brooke stammered as she sludged through the doors, wearing a soaked jacket and carrying a wilted magazine in her hand. She tried in vain to smooth her wet, tangled hair as she dropped the magazine into the trash on her way up to the counter. "The bus got stuck in a traffic jam and…I don't have a car right now."

Melanie slipped out from behind the counter. "I was watching the news," she indicated the miniature television behind the counter, "it looks like it's getting pretty nasty outside. I'm just glad you were able to make it here safely." She looked the teenager up and down sympathetically, then yanked a baby blanket from the shelf. "Here, you looked like a drowned rat."

"Thanks." Brooke ran the blanket over her hair and peeled off her jacket, which she was content to leave hanging on her arm until Melanie offered to take it. "Uh, thanks," she repeated, embarrassed. "I uh…I'm glad you glad. I'm surprised, but glad. _Very_ glad!"

"Well I've got to admit, we usually like people with more experience and your resume was a little bare…" she pressed her finger to her lip, choosing her words carefully. "But Haley stopped in again a few days ago and I chatted her up a bit and you know, she really seems to think highly of you." She shrugged. "Not that friends are the most reliable references, of course, but that's why I wanted to talk with you again myself to get a better feel for who you are."

"Who I am?" Brooke echoed, almost with a hollow laugh. Before she could stop herself she blurted out, "I don't even know if _I_ know that yet."

Melanie grinned. "Well you're only sixteen." She agreed. "Many people two or three times your age still don't have an answer to that." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, then ducked behind the counter and produced Brooke's resume. "It says here you're a cheerleader at Tree Hill High."

Brooke could feel a heat creep into her cheeks. "Yes. Well…was."

"Was?"

Brooke pursed her lips. "To be honest, Melanie, this isn't what I had planned for my life. I've been land blasted with a lot of things in the past several months and…and although cheerleading is my passion, I couldn't do it anymore for medical reasons." While she debated in her head whether or not she wanted to elaborate on what those reasons were, her hand sneakily found its way to her belly.

The gesture did not go unnoticed by Melanie, though she didn't comment on it either. Instead, she nodded. "Well, are or aren't, the fact that you took up the task is something of an asset. It means you have an outgoing personality and no problem working with people, even masses. Not that this store would ever attract enough people to fill a high school gym or field, but I believe the point still stands."

"I…" _Never thought of that. _"Yeah, well, yeah. If you're looking for bubbly people person, that's me!" she flashed a complimentary grin. "Goes with the territory, I s'pose." She felt herself nodding. "I was going to be captain of the JV Squad next year, but…" Her chest fell flat as she thought about the loss.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It was the biggest goal I've ever had. Ha!" she rolled her eyes. "Now I sound like Julia Roberts."

Melanie wagged her finger playfully. "Tinkerbell in _Hook_," she laughed.

"Yeah," Brooke giggled. "Great movie. I've loved her ever since _Pretty Woman_. It's probably my favorite _Cinderella_ story. People aren't always as bad as they seem, you know? Sometimes they just need the right circumstances to turn themselves around."

Melanie nodded. "You're absolutely right, Miss Davis. I wouldn't even be in this shop interviewing you today if Isla and I hadn't believed in one another."

"Isla?"

"The other co-owner. We've been friends as far back as I can remember; grew up as neighbors. I'd introduce you, but unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on how you look at it – she's in Florida right now. The business has done so well in the last couple years we're thinking of opening another shop in Tampa. Actually, that' why we're hiring: with her spending so much time out of state, it's becoming harder and harder for me to run the business here all by myself. I need someone who can take charge of the customers, while I work administratively behind the scenes."

"It sounds like you have a lot on your plate."

"Don't we all?" Melanie glanced around Brooke's shoulder as the bell above the door jingled, informing her of the young woman – who she guessed to be in her mid to late twenties – and the little girl, perhaps about four, who walked in. "Can I help you?" she asked pleasantly.

"Uh…" The woman held tight to the little girl's hand as the latter tried to break free. Both were loaded down in bulky water slicked rain coats. She pushed back the hood and pulled down the zipper, revealing a noticeably round stomach. "I just moved to the area…"

Melanie smiled. "I wondered. Lovely accent. Texas?"

"Austin," she confirmed. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I saw your coupon in the paper." She dug her hand into her jean pocket and produced a small cutout. "We've been trying to find some good deals. We weren't really expecting our second so soon, but you know what they say, birth control isn't a failsafe." She laughed nervously. "Anyway, I'd given most of Layla's baby things away after she outgrew them and now I'm in a bit of a bind."

"Well you've come to the right place, we've got all your baby needs." Melanie waved her hand across the store. "From newborn all the way through second grade. The store's separated into two sections, new and gently used. We also have a small section for maternity wear through that door," she pointed towards the back of the store.

"Is it okay if I just browse?"

"Absolutely." Melanie extended a friendly manicured hand. "And if you have any questions, I'm Melanie."

"Jordanne," the woman greeted. "It's a pleasure."

Brooke flashed a smile at Layla, who was staring at her. She wiggled her fingers and winked, to which Layla attempted to mimic her, but ended up blinking instead. Brooke chuckled as Jordanne hauled Layla off in the direction of the newborn section.

"Aren't they adorable at that age?"

Brooke nodded. "She's definitely a cutie pie. Do – do you have kids yourself?" she questioned.

"Sadly, no. I wanted to, I love kids! But I tried a new birth control about ten years ago and it caused a uterine growth which had to be surgically removed and left me unable to have children."

Brooke's face fell. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, but don't be. I became a foster parent, which has been great. I've gotten to know and love a lot of children who, for whatever reason, couldn't have parents. It was a perfect match. And that's how half of this store came into being: with the constant coming and going of my foster kids, recycling the gently used things between them became an inexpensive way to help everyone out, and that translated into the business. Meanwhile, Isla became responsible for the new retail. I'm the 'mommie' and she's the 'designs' in 'Mommie's Designs.'"

"That's cute. It sounds like a happy ending."

"Thanks." Melanie leaned against the table. "Well it was lovely meeting you, Brooke." She held out her hand and shook the teenager's graciously. "Naturally, I'll need to discuss things with Isla before I hire anyone, but I thank you very much for making the trip out here to meet with me and I'll give you a call to let you know our decision within the next week."

Brooke felt her stomach plummet a bit. "Sure, thanks." _It's a nice way of saying get lost._ "Do you mind if I look around a bit before I go?"

"Of course not! Take your time."

"Thanks."

Brooke maneuvered her way through the racks, leaving Melanie back at the checkout counter. She gingerly picked up the miniature hangers with frilly outfits and even giggled at one dress that was made out in the style of a Charlotte Bobcats toddler cheerleader uniform, from the gently used section. Before long, she found her way to the back of the store and slipped into the maternity room, where Jordanne was thumbing through some racks and Layla was on the ground underneath a rack of clothes, playing with Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls.

As Brooke began to examine a couple of nondescript mannequins sporting maternity wear, Jordanne ushered Layla into a changing room with an armful of clothes. Brooke held back her chuckle at the stubborn child's resistance, until Jordanne finally won out. Once alone, she carefully lifted the layered fabric of her latest sunflower yellow baby doll top to examine the clothes pin secured jeans she was wearing.

Although she had gone through the bag of maternity clothing that Haley's mother had given her, Brooke couldn't bring herself to wear them. Not because they didn't fit, but because they were sorely outdated. _It's not like I should be looking a gift horse in the mouth from the position I'm in, but I can't help it. I've never dressed down before and if I start now, people at school might start questioning more than they already are. It's bad enough I'll start having to re-wear clothes in a couple weeks._ As she heard the door creek, she quickly dropped the edge of the top and spun around to see Jordanne walk out.

"Can I ask your opinion?" she asked timidly.

"Uh, sure." Brooke shrugged.

"What do you think? I mean…" the young mother looked down at the top she was wearing. "Something just seems a bit off, like it doesn't quite fit right. And it's so – so _plain_. But the price," she grabbed the tag on the edge of the top, "is right."

Brooke pressed her finger to her chin, then motioned her hand. "Turn around." Once Jordanne had made a full circle, she nodded. "It's a bit long on you, almost like a short dress, which isn't entirely flattering. But if you hemmed it just about two or three inches, it'd be perfect for your stature. And about the plainness of it…the black does suit your blonde hair and it's naturally slimming. But if you_ really_ don't like it, you could always add a little sizzle by stitching some silver thread trim around the sleeves, collar, and hem. Perhaps even a few bedazzled jewels? Though not too many, that always leaves things tacky."

Jordanne turned her back to Brooke, facing the mirror at the back of the dressing room. She began to nod slowly. "You know, you're absolutely right!" she chuckled gleefully. "Brilliant! Thank you so much!"

"No problem."

"What do you think about this one?"

Brooke mulled over the dress as the woman held it in front of herself. "That one's kind of cute. I'd say add a sash under the bust, throw on a pair of comfy ballet flats, and add a chunky necklace and you'd be as good as gold."

"Oh, you're a doll! An absolute doll!" She grabbed Layla's hand and tugged the toddler into an upright position.

"Finding everything alright?"

Brooke glanced back at Melanie, who was in the doorway. "Ye-"

"She's a doll!" Jordanne continued to gush as she led her daughter towards Melanie. "We'll take these, though I think I'll probably be back again later this week, maybe next time with my husband."

"Glad you've found what you needed."

Brooke listened to Melanie and Jordanne chat back and forth on their way to the checkout counter, until their voices faded into the distance. She continued to mull through a couple hangers, once in a while testing something in front of herself as she looked into the dressing room mirror, before ultimately putting everything back and heading back out into the main room. The door jingled as she pushed it open and was about to leave when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't forget your coat."

"Oh! Thanks!" She delicately accepted the coat, which was still fairly wet, and slipped it on with a scowl. It was cold and clingy, but letting the rain outside hit her without the feeble layer of protection was the worse of two options.

"By the way, when can you start?"

"Excuse me?"

"Working. When can you start working?"

Brooke felt her jaw lock. "Wh – me? When? H-how? I thought you said you needed to speak with you friend-"

"And I did." She winked and motioned her finger for Brooke to follow her into the backroom with a sign that read, _Employees Only_. Melanie pointed to the video surveillance screen, which had for quadrants for the four cameras located around the store. One of the quadrants held the image of the currently empty maternity room. "I saw you speaking with Jordanne on the camera and she looked pretty impressed, so I…I went back there to do a little eavesdropping. Anyway, she gushed about you and your suggestions for her clothes the entire time I was ringing up her order. Needless to say, I rang up Isla after she left and we talked and…we'd like to give you a shot."

Brooke inhaled quickly and held back the scream in her throat. "You're serious?" she peeped.

"As serious as a politician isn't."

"Oh my gosh! You – you're – thank you! Thank you, thank so much! You won't regret this, I promise!" she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. "I can start tomorr – er, well, I have an English essay due tomorrow…I can start Saturday!"

"Splendid. I recall you said you take the bus, so although we open at nine, why don't you be here by ten? Sound good?"

"Sounds great!"

Melanie put out her hand. "Welcome aboard, Brooke Davis."

"Thank you!" _I'm going to explode!_ She scrunched up her face as she left, holding back a squeal until she rounded the corner, then she pressed her splayed fingers to her lips, pulled them back, and shook them back and forth rapidly for ten seconds before shouting, _"Yessss!"_

Although a few shoppers stopped to stare and pass looks, Brooke ignored them and proudly threw open the doors as she stepped outside. The rain had stopped and although the ground was still slick and dark, she inhaled the fresh post-rain scent, and finally felt as though things just might be going in the right direction.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**A/N: **I think I warned about this before, but I don't know what Nathan's canon DOB is, so if anyone does know his DOB, it may or may not mesh up with his DOB in this story. Also, I'm going to try and get Chapter 37 up today. I've gotten most of it written, but it's not quite done yet. I was going to wait to post both of them together, but you all have been waiting too long anyway, so I'll just get this up now.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

"Please, Peyton. Please? Pleeeeeease?"

The blonde squirmed out of the way as her best friend bounced around her, giving her the most pathetic puppy dog eyes she'd ever seen. "Ugh, fine!" she complained as she stepped behind the man in line at the Cinnabon counter. "What is with you and cinnabons lately anyway?"

"Cravings," the brunette only half lied. "And thank you!" She threw her arms around Peyton's neck. "I'll pay you back as soon as I get my check."

Peyton sighed. "Don't worry about it, I got your back. Or your stomach. Or whatever."

"You're the best!"

"I know," she smirked as they stepped up to the front. "One regular cinnabon with extra icing, please." She retrieved her debit card from her purse as Brooke practically salivated at the counter. "But seriously, since I'm being such a good friend, I think you should finally let me take a peek at your new job."

"Why are you so interested in seeing me at work?"

"Because Brooke Davis working is a sign of the apocalypse that I need to see for myself?" She ducked out of the way of the brunette's swatting hand. "But seriously, though. I just want to check it out. Can't a best friend check out another best friend's new job?"

"I don't want my boss to think I'm inviting my friends over to chat and goof off. This is important, Peyton. I may not like it, I may not want a job, but it's what has to be done."

"Wow," Peyton replied seriously. "You really have grown up in these last few months."

Brooke dove into cinnabon with her plastic fork as Peyton spoke. "Mhmm," she mumbled through a mouthful of sweet cinnamon-sugar goodness.

"Or not." Peyton dryly ribbed. They walked in silence for a few moments as Brooke shoveled the sweet between her lips, then Peyton inquired, "So how's it going so far? Are you liking it? Are customers as awful as the movies make them out to be?"

"Seriously, one question at a time P. Sawyer. First, it's been okay. Not terrible, but then again, I've only been at it for three weeks, so the novelty could wear off at some point. Two, I kind of already answered that in one. And three, they aren't as bad as you'd think. But that could also be because I'm not working in a fast food place or gas station or something equally horrible like that. The parents are actually worse than the kids when it comes to leaving clothes around and not putting stuff back where they found it."

"You used to do that all the time."

"Yeah, well, now I know how flipping annoying it is. My new position is that I hate people who do that. My kid will never be one of them."

"Unless it rebels."

"Shhh!" Brooke hissed, pressing her index finger firmly to her lips. "Ixnay the ebelray! Remember, it can hear stuff now, it might be listening!"

"Well in that case I'm going to make a point of playing my records every night when you get home, so as to indoctrinate it with my musical mojo by the time it breaks free of your womb."

"You wouldn't!"

"I so would!"

"I need full belly ear muffs. You're an evil, _evil_ woman." She stopped at the door of Mommie's Designs and finished up the last of her cinnabon, then pointed to the windows. "Okay, now you've seen the store, happy now?"

"What? That doesn't count. That's like saying you've seen the Eiffel Tower because you saw an online virtual tour."

"Except you're five feet away and online, you're a half a world away."

Peyton rolled her eyes. "You're impossible. But lucky for you, I've got some errands to run right now, so I don't have time to grind down your defenses. But trust me! By the time I get back here tonight, I'm going to want a tour and I swear I'll hold you in a headlock until you give me one, pregnant or not."

Brooke playfully swatted Peyton on the butt. "Get your skinny ass out of here!" She flashed her middle finger in mock offense as Peyton kissed her fingers and slapped them to her butt before scampering off.

"Friend of yours?"

Brooke jumped at the sound of Melanie's voice. "Uh, yeah." She felt her cheeks burn, hoping Melanie hadn't seen her flip Peyton off. "The best, actually. Her name's Peyton, we've been friends since were kids."

Melanie nodded as she led Brooke to the cash register. "Are you comfortable manning the store for about forty-five minutes by yourself?"

Brooke squirmed. "I've been doing alright the last couple weeks while you've been in the back," she edged. "I don't see why not."

"Great! I'm really sorry to leave you, but I've got to get down to the bank this morning, it's urgent."

"Sure, no problem." _I hope it's slow._ She watched Melanie collect her purse and coat, then gave her boss a friendly wave as she left. For fifteen minutes, the store remained empty, until Brooke finally got board enough to pull some scratch paper out of her backpack and a pen off the register and start doodling.

First she made rough sketches of a couple of the garments Lydia had given her several weeks earlier, then she began to shade and fill in the details. She chewed her lip while musing on the clothes for a while, then she thought back to the advice she'd given Jordanne on the things she'd bought the day Melanie had given her the job. Finally, she flipped her pencil over and began to erase certain things and then redraw them, some with new designs, others with added or subtracted fabric, and still others with new shading.

By the time she was finished, the bell above the door announced her first customer of the day, so Brooke slid the sketches back into her bag and glided out from behind the counter. "Welcome to Mommie's Designs," she chirped. "How can I help you today?"

The father who had entered was carrying his daughter on his shoulders. Although he was in his late thirties or early forties, he was still intensely attractive for his age, vaguely resembling Taye Diggs, though he shared a smile that he unmistakably shared with Eddie Murphy, which as far as Brooke could tell, seemed to be reserved for his daughter and the silly jokes she was telling him.

The little girl, on the other hand, was noticeably biracial, and perhaps one of the most beautiful children Brooke had ever seen. The child's slanted eyes and cherub face made her think of Kimora Lee Simmons and simultaneously reminded her of how as a kid, Peyton's dad had once threatened them that if they made faces at each other, their faces would stick that way, so they'd tried to use his logic to pull at the corner of their eyes so they could have Asian eyes during what Peyton later referred to as their _Oriental phase_.

"We're looking for something for my nephew," the man explained. "My brother just had his second, their first daughter, and now her newly crowned big brother is feeling a little out of the loop. We wanted to make him feel appreciated."

Brooke snapped her fingers enthusiastically. "We've got just the thing!" she replied in her most cheerfully cheerleader voice, almost bordering on over enthusiasm. "Does your nephew like superheroes, by any chance?"

"Supewman!"

"Ah," Brooke winked at the little girl. "The All American Superhero, huh? I was always partial to Wonder Woman myself." She giggled. "Actually, I always kind of thought Wonder Woman and Superman would be perfect for each other, ya know? 'Cause they're so alike."

"Nuh-uh!" the little girl laughed. "Supewman and Louis Lane!"

"Yeah," Brooke deflated a bit. "That's what everyone used to tell me too." She shrugged. "They were together once in the comics, though. They had a son, actually. But," she waved her hand, "anyway…Here we are. We just got these in last week: all your name brand superhero PJ's, complete with action figures! Do you think your nephew would be interested, Sir?"

The gentleman picked up a folded pair of pajamas spotted with Superman in different poses along the night shirt and night pants, which also had a plastic bag attached to the tag containing a red cape and a Superman action figure inside. "He'll love this one! We'll probably never be able think, Akahana?"

"I likes it!"

"Looks like we're set!"

Brooke ushered them back to the counter and chit chatted about the man's nephew as she rang up his order, then flashed a pearly smile and wished them well as they left. Once gone, she retrieved her sketches again and continued to mull over what she'd done, before a new idea began to formulate in her head.

Unable to stop thinking about the delicate blending of Asian and African features that Akahana had, Brooke began to chew on the end of the pen, then pressed her sketches to her rounding belly. _I wonder what features from Nathan and I are going to be most prominent?_ She pressed her pen to her paper again, this time drawing the outline of head, with a rather pointed chin, similar to her own. Then she sketched in Nathan's lips and eyes, with her nose, and finally began to add in a nest of dark curls and even bangs, as an afterthought.

"Is that what you look like?" she rubbed her belly in slow circles with the warm palm of her hand and felt a familiar heat come to her eyes as she thought back to the previous months, to the miscarriage of one of the two lives she and Nathan had created together.

With a shaky wrist, she slid her pen a few inches to the right and drew another facial outline, this time with a more rounded chin, like Nathan's. She drew in his ears, shaded in her eyebrows, and once again gave the face the basketball star's eyes. All in all, the second sketch looked more like him than her, though she did make a point of blending their noses and lips in the second one, even if the lips did stretch into his smile that was, for the most part, rare on his face.

_Maybe it won't even have brown hair? Blonde? Nathan's half brother has blonde hair and Nathan looks more like his brother's parents than his own. Except my parents aren't blonde. I don't think I'm even related to a blonde._ She closed her eyes, trying to remember the rules about recessive genes from biology but gave up thirty seconds later.

"I wish the ultrasound could show me a_ real_ picture of you. Not that I can even afford an ultrasound now anyway. It's driving me nuts not knowing what you look like and who you are. Will you look like him or me? Love basketball or cheerleading? Love cinnabons or…" she exhaled and bent over to slip her sketch book into her backpack. "Whatever you are – whoever you turn out to be – one thing's for sure: I'll love you. I already love you. And you know what? No matter what that no good grandmother of yours or anyone else does to us, nobody can change that. Got it?"

Soon a peculiar feeling developed in her stomach, similar to the fluttering or air bubble-like sensation she'd been feeling for a while, but stronger: an actual kick. Brooke wrapped both arms around her belly and reveled in the sensation. "You're the first person in my family to ever tell me that."


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

**A/N: **Thanks to the fantastic five of you who reviewed! So sorry I didn't get this up yesterday. I had some unexpected guests show up.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

Deb strolled into the kitchen, pulling open the cupboards and inspecting the cereal, snack, and liquor supply with Peyton trailing right behind her.

"I know a lot has been going on with you and Mr. Scott lately, so I thought throwing Nathan a surprise party might take his mind off things."

Deb scoffed at her husband's name as pulled a half drunken bottle of Jack Daniels from the cupboard, uncapped it, and turned it upside down over the sink. She watched as the golden liquid spiraled down the drain and then tossed the glass bottle into the trash beneath the lower cupboards.

"I promise to make sure everything's cleaned up afterwards! You won't have to worry about a thing."

"Looks like you might have to do a little cleaning before hand too," she shrugged nonchalantly. "But if you're up for that, it's fine by me. I think a surprise party is a lovely idea." She tossed a warm smile towards her son's girlfriend.

"And you're sure Mr. Scott won't be angry?"

"Dan's got some conference or meeting concerning the dealership in New Jersey. He flies out tomorrow and he'll be up there for a week, so he won't be a problem. And even if that wasn't the case, until the divorce is final, the beach house is still half mine and I'm giving you permission to use it." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a white dogwood flower keychain, with a single silver key hanging from it.

Peyton caught the keychain in her hand as Deb tossed it to her. She grinned graciously. "Thank you, Mrs. Scott!"

"Deb, please."

"Deb," Peyton conceded.

A buzzing sound came from the table, where Deb's purse was sitting. She reached inside and pulled out her Blackberry and glanced regretfully at Peyton. "Sorry I can't stay and chat, but-" she flashed her Blackberry at Peyton which had a reminder note on the screen "-I've got an appointment with a client via webcam in a half an hour, so I've got to get home and get my notes prepared."

"Oh, no problem." She twirled the key on her finger. "I'll probably be here all afternoon if you want to drop by again. You're welcome to the party-"

Deb interrupted the invitation with a laugh. "Nate and I haven't exactly been getting along the best lately. It's probably a compilation of things, but rest assured, I won't be crashing your party. Besides, I know it's a pity invitation and I'm sure you hip high schoolers don't want some old hoagie mom spying on your business." She winked. "Just try to keep the drugs, sex, and rock n' roll to a minimum, okay?" She closed her eyes and covered her ears to emphasize her point: "I'm blissfully ignorant to what I can't see and can't hear, so long as the cops aren't called, nobody vomits on the furniture, and nobody crashes because they drove home drunk."

Peyton nodded dutifully. "I'll make sure the guests are on their best behavior." She walked with Deb to the door. "Thanks again!" From the steps, she waved as she watched Deb get into her car and drive off. When she was safely out of sight, Peyton slipped back inside and shut the door. She examined the living room, then crossed back into the kitchen, where several grocery bags were sitting on the floor.

Opening one up revealed plastic containers of fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, lemons, and limes along with several bottles of various drink mixes. First, she loaded up her arms and stocked the refrigerator with the fruit and the lower cupboards with the drink mixes. Secondly, she pulled out the blender from one of the cupboards and set it up on the counter. Knowing that Deb would not be attending the party, as she'd figured in the first place, she planned to try and get some liquor later on, but that was one of the lesser tasks on her list of things to do.

As she turned and reached for the next one, her cell phone began to blare from her purse. She snatched it up. "Hello?"

"P – _hehehe _– Peyton?"

"Bevin?" Peyton questioned.

"Uh, yeah, it's me! I – _hehe!_ Stop that! I can't-"

"Don't you dare! You said you'd be over with the-"

"I'm sorry, I can't," the perky voice interrupted. "I'm...uh…kind of busy right now."

"Who's the guy?" Peyton snapped into the receiver.

"Come on, hang up on and play with me!"

Peyton's face twisted into a vision of disgust. "Tim? You're with _Tim_?"

"Sorry!" Bevin squealed. "I gotta go, bye Peyton!"

Peyton stared down at her phone as _Call Ended_ flashed onto her screen. With a sneer, she shoved the cellular back into her purse. She glanced up at the ceiling with folded arms. "All I want is a fun end-of-sophomore-year birthday party for my boyfriend, is that so much to ask?" She tugged one arm out from the other. "Great, I'll just add picking up the cake to my list of preparations. Thank you, Bevin Mirskey!"

In an attempt to not think about Bevin's call – and the inevitable beating she planned on giving Tim later – Peyton stalked into the living where, where her hopes fell even more: it was a mess with cluttered dirty dishes, liquor bottles with varying degrees of liquid, rumpled blankets, beer cans, takeout boxes, and even a few scattered _Playboy_ magazines.

"If his wife hadn't kicked him out because he's _Dan Scott_, you could almost feel bad for the guy. _Almost._" Peyton turned abruptly to retrieve the garbage can from the kitchen and then hedged back into the living room, collecting the trash as she went. She was normally a recycler, but on this occasion, there was no way she was going to take the time to separate glass and plastic from Dan's toxic landfill. _Maybe I should've taken a picture first? I'm sure the impression he gives his customers as the dealership is far from his indoor hobo reality that he lives in here. The reactions alone might've been a good birthday gift for Nathan._

By the time she was finished, the trash bag was nearly overflowing as she lugged it out to the dumpster. _The things I do for you, Nathan Scott._ With a roll of her green eyes, Peyton returned to the beach house where she snatched up a bottle of Febreeze from the laundry room and began to thoroughly mist down everything in the living room. When she got to the couch, she picked up a blanket and much to her dismay, found a large stain on the couch cushion, which, from the waft of the scent after removing the blanket, appeared to be a brandy stain that hadn't quite dried. She quickly Febreezed the spot and then carried the blanket down to the laundry room, where she loaded it into the washer with extra liquid All.

"Deb will probably be thrilled to give this place away in the divorce," she muttered as she moved from bedroom to bedroom, Febreezing the beds and furniture. It wasn't like she needed to – most of the rooms looked untouched except for the one Dan had been sleeping in – but due to her experience with the parties held at the beach house in the past, _all_ the rooms would be used and she simply figured it was probably the noble thing to do.

From the kitchen, she heard her cell phone go off again, a ring tone that told her the call was from Brooke. However, she was already at the last bedroom. "Be there in a minute, Davis!" Peyton hollered into the open air. She sprayed the bed and the pillows as she entered, then paused to gaze around the room and make sure there were no other pieces of furniture that needed Febreezing, before she turned to leave.

Halfway over the threshold, she paused, and as an afterthought, turned back into the room and headed over to the dresser. The sound of her cell phone ceased as she knelt down and pulled out the dresser. "I thought so," she spoke delightedly as she reached for one of the spare blankets, which she planned to place out on the couch to replace the one she'd had to wash. As she pulled it out, a little thud resounded at the back of the drawer, and the blonde squinted her eyes in curiosity. She pushed the blanket onto the dresser and pulled the drawer out a bit further, but was unable to get a good view of the back because of the second blanket.

Peyton wedged her hand inside, digging around for something that would make the noise. _Definitely not fabric…I swear, if Dan's keeping a gun in here…_ Her thoughts peeled off as her hand hit something cold and hard; not the blanket, not the wood of the dresser. _But not a gun._ She pulled her hand back and to her surprise, she was holding a tape recorder. With a squint, she held the device up to her face, then pressed the _Power_ button and opened the LCD screen. As her finger moved towards the _Play_ button, her green irises briefly drifted to the bed she'd just sprayed. _Do I even want to know what's on here?_

For reasons she couldn't explain, a strange twinge echoed in her gut and she nearly closed the screen, but something else kept her from doing so. Her finger hovered along the surface of the button for a good half a minute, hesitating as if calling a crush's number for the first time, before she finally felt her finger jam it down. The LCD screen immediately flickered to life and an all too familiar voice poured from the speakers.

"…nobody will ever know."


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**A/N: **After thirty-seven chapters, Peyton finally discovers the truth! Now what?

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

Brooke fingered the edge of crimson cover of the book in front of her. The smooth wrap was slightly textured, so she could feel the raised outlines of the letters beneath her fingertips: _The Da Vinci Code_. She began to strum her fingers along the shifty eyes of the _Mona Lisa_ for the nth time.

"Miss?"

"Huh?" the brunette tilted her head to the side, noticing a young woman with cropped red hair standing a few feet away. "Yes?" she instinctively corrected, upon being yanked from her reverie.

"We're closing in five minutes."

"Wh – you are?" Brooke looked to her wrist, only to realize she wasn't wearing a watch. "It's that late already?"

"I'm sorry…" the redhead replied awkwardly. "Are you, uh, waiting on someone? Do you have a ride?"

Brooke shifted uneasily in her seat. "Yeah, a friend of mine was supposed to pick me up…a while ago."

"You've been here quite a while-"

"Yeah, well, I got off earlier than expected. I left my ride a message, but I'm not sure if she got it or not. I haven't heard from her since this morning, so…"

"Do you have a phone? When was the last time you called her?"

"I ran out of pocket change about an hour ago."

"If you'd like to use our phone, you're more than welcome."

Brooke smiled meekly. "That'd be great, thank you!" she stood and followed the redhead to the counter.

"Just dial zero first."

"Sure." Brooke's fingers fumbled against the keys. Her stomach was growling, her feet were aching and swollen, and she thought she could also feel the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. After several rings, she heard the systematic drone of Peyton's voice on her answering machine. "Hey, it's me again. You're really beginning to worry me, P. Sawyer. You were supposed to pick me up tonight, remember? Are you okay? I'm at the bookstore in the mall right now, they're about to close…I hope you're on your way. Bye."

As she dropped the receiver back into its cradle, she heard the giddy sounds of laughter at the counter and looked up to see the redhead waiting on two recognizable faces: "Jake? H-Haley?"

Haley's head snapped up at the sound of Brooke's voice and her jaw dropped a bit. "Brooke!"

The humor drained from Jake's face. "B-Brooke. When did – how – I didn't see you-"

"I was just using the phone." She skirted around the counter, with a burn in her cheeks that she attempted to hide behind her sheets of dark hair. "What are you guys doing here?"

Haley slid her hand across the counter and held up copy of _The Turning of the Screw_. "Jake needed it for an extra credit essay he's working on."

"With everything going on, I didn't get to finish two of my classes; I got an 'Incomplete' in English, so Hales is helping me make it up this summer."

"I was going to loan him my own copy, but I can't seem to find it and-"

"They're all checked out at the library." Jake turned his head away to swipe his debit card and then shifted his eyes back to Brooke as the computer began to print his receipt. "What about you?"

"I've just been waiting here since I got off work, waiting for Peyton. I'm starting to get worried; she was supposed to pick me up hours ago."

Jake looked to the clock on the wall as the cashier handed him his receipt. "Do you need a ride?"

Brooke smiled sheepishly. "I don't want to put you out of your way…"

"It's okay," Jake offered. "My parents are home with Jenny. Haley and I were going to pick a pizza up on the way home anyway, it's not too far from Peyton's."

"Well, if you're sure-"

"Come on," Jake nodded, with a wave of his hand.

Brooke bit her lip. Although Jake spoke with a smile, she could still smell the tension between them, thick as fudge pudding. "Thanks."

"So how's the kid's store?" Jake asked as they left the bookstore. "Haley mentioned you got a job there."

"Did she?" Brooke glanced to Haley, who merely smiled. "Sounds like you hang out a lot then, huh?"

"I tutor him a lot."

"I've missed a lot of school before of Jenny."

"Sure. Yeah, well, yeah, it's fine," she stuttered. "Good boss, not too laborious, if you know what I mean. It's better than what a lot of people in my position usually get. How's Jenny?" she asked, as Jake opened the back door to his car for her.

"She's great!" Jake beamed, momentarily breaking the awkwardness with sincerity. "She's smiling all the time now."

"Except for at night," Haley laughed. "She's so stubborn, she _hates_ bedtime. She wants to stay up with Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa."

Jake chuckled as they pulled out of the parking lot. "So Haley wrote her this amazing bedtime song that puts her to sleep like…" he lifted his hand from the wheel and snapped his fingers, _"…that."_

From the backseat, Brooke shifted her eyes to the back of Haley's head. "You wrote a song?"

Haley turned around, her cheeks obviously blushing, even in the darkness of the car. "Oh, yeah, I've kind of always had a thing for music," she squeaked. "Piano…the guitar…" she suddenly pointed to Jake. "Did you know Jake plays the guitar too?"

Brooke cast her eyes into her lap. "Yeah," she sighed, thinking back to the time Jake had sung to her in his room. "He's really talented."

"I know! He tries to tell me he isn't, but he's got so much potential! Might even be a better singer than he is a basketball player." She playfully slugged his arm as he drove. "You could on tour one day! Can't you imagine?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "That's no life for Jenny. She needs a stable home, not a tour bus."

"Well," Haley replied, a bit uncomfortably, "whatever you do, one thing's certain: you've got talent." She twisted in her seat to look back at Brooke. "How about you, Brooke? I haven't seen you much since we put together your resume. Are you and the baby doing alright?"

Brooke laid her hand to her belly. "Fine."

"Do you know whether it's a girl or boy yet?"

"No. I don't have the insurance for doctor's appointments anymore."

Haley squirmed. "Aren't there some free or discounted health clinics you could look into?"

"I have no idea-"

"If you want, I could look into it-"

"No," Brooke shook her head. "I'm sure you'll be pretty busy helping Jake play catch up this summer, so it's fine. Thanks for the suggestion, I'll do it myself."

"Sure. Let me know if anything pans out, alright?" She turned back around, to face the window shield. "Did you want to stop and get pizza with us?"

Brooke rubbed her belly. The pains of hunger had doubled since they left the bookstore, but she defiantly shook her head. "No. Peyton and I were planning a little pig out this evening," she lied.

On cue, Jake rolled up to the curb by Peyton's house. "It looks like her car's here," he said suspiciously.

"And there's a light up there," Haley noted with a pointed finger towards Peyton's bedroom window.

"Do you want us to walk in with you?" Jake questioned, his voice tinged with worry.

"Um…" Brooke eased out of the car. A heavy feeling was weighing in her belly, but she couldn't figure out why. "No, that's okay. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation. Thanks for the ride!" She shut the door and hurried up to the front door, fumbling through her purse for a moment before retrieving Peyton's house key and opening it up. She flipped on the light and waved to Jake and Haley, before slipping into the house and closing the door.

Everything was eerily silent as she moved through the house. "Peyton?" The house was freezing, as if the heater hadn't been on for hours. "Peyton, you here?" she began to ascend the stairs, starting to wonder if she should've taken Jake up on his offer. She could see the glow of the light from Peyton's room at the top of the stairs and quickened her step until she reached the top. "P-Peyton?" she called into the open air. She shuffled towards the door and stepped in, expecting to find Peyton on the bed.

She did not find Peyton. Instead, her skin turned corpse cold as her eyes locked onto the television, the only source of light in the room. On the screen, tangled nakedly into each other, were her and Nathan, on that fateful night at the beach house. Although it was muted, every breath, moan, noise, and word from that night resounded in Brooke's head. She staggered backwards towards the door, where she bumped into something soft and vaguely warm. Brooke spun around in terror, to find Peyton in the doorway, with the blue haze of the television reflecting on her pale face and blonde curls, making her look sickly, perhaps even dead.

Peyton silently lifted her arm, revealing the control to the television, and pressed her thumb down. Instantly, the sound blew from the speakers at the loudest volume the television allowed.

Brooke slammed her hands to her ears as the sounds of her orgasm raped her ears, followed immediately by Nathan's climax. She closed her eyes, refusing to watch the screen, but as the sounds billowed in her ears, the corresponding images consumed her mind's eye.

"_Fu-ck!" Nathan panted._

_Brooke's head sunk into her pillow as she felt Nathan pull out of her and sit up, towards the camera. She stared at the physical damage she'd inflected on his back and then grabbed the sheet, pulled it around her torso, and sat up. She pressed her hand to Nathan's ribbed chest and pulled it up to his neck and around to right cheek. She leaned her face forward, resting it on Nathan's shoulder, and beamed in the afterglow at the camera lens. She angled her head and began to nibble at Nathan's earlobe, before applying pressure to his head and turning his face to hers. "You wanna go again, baby?"_

"_I'm spent," he replied, even as Brooke scooted behind him and wrapped her legs around his waist._

"_After one go?" Brooke taunted. "Turn off the camera, I'll show you want 'spent' really feels like!" She pitched forward and flicked the button, ending the recording._

Brooke felt like vomiting. She couldn't bear to open her eyes and face her best friend. And just when she thought it was over, she heard Nathan's voice again.

"Done."

Her eyes flashed open, realizing in horror that the recording was on a loop.

"Hold on! I can't believe I'm doing this. I would die if anybody saw this, Nathan!"

"Don't worry, nobody will ever know."

Unable to take it again, Brooke charged the television and ripped the plug from the wall, watching in momentary relief as the screen popped and faded to black. The darkness of the room afforded her a few moments of privacy, before the lights burned to life, blinding her as though she were in an interrogation room. She shoved to her forehead, shielding herself from the light. From beneath her arm, she could see Peyton's shoes and legs, up to her knees. When her eyes had adjusted enough to the light, she carefully peeled her arm away and tilted her head back to look into Peyton's tear stained eyes.


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

**A/N: **I've been itching to post this chapter!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Thirty Nine**

"Peyton," Brooke shook her head helplessly. "I don't know-" The sound of flesh cascading into flesh vibrated in her head, followed immediately by a brief numbness before fire bloomed along the left side of her face. Tears sprang to her eyes in response.

"What don't you know?" Peyton barked. Her voice grated on Brooke, like sandpaper on an open wound. "Because let me tell you something: _I_ should be the one who gets to say she doesn't know here!" she yelled, stabbing her index finger into her chest. _"Me!" _she screamed. "And do you know why?" She flung the remote at Brooke, which clipped the latter in the arm as it flew past her. "Because _that_-" she thrust her finger at the tape recorder that was hooked up to the television "-is my _boyfriend!_ My boyfriend, on tape,_ fucking_ my _best friend! _And I don't fucking know why!"

"It was an accident!"

"_An accident?"_ the blonde challenged, her voice a machete to Brooke's ears. "An accident is when you borrow my favorite shirt and spill a Bloody Mary down the front! An_ accident_ is when I loan you my car and you crash it! Having sex with my boyfriend is_ not an accident!_"

Brooke grasped the edge of the table to help her stand. "You don't understand!" she pleaded. "I was drunk. We were both drunk! And – and you'd broken up-"

"We'd broken up?" Peyton echoed, laughing humorlessly. "Do you think I'm a moron? Look at the clothes he's wearing, look at yourself! We'd broken up that night, Brooke! _That night!_ How long after that was it before you had your hands on him? Fifteen minutes? Ten? _Five?_ Newsflash: we _always_ break up!"

Before she could stop herself, words she'd never thought she'd say poured from her lips: "Doesn't that tell you anything?"

Peyton recoiled, stunned into silence. _"How dare you!"_ she seethed. "Who the _hell_ are you to lecture me on the viability of relationships! You've never loved anyone in your life!"

"That's not true! You know that's not true, Peyton. I love you! And I-"

"Oh, is that how you show your love in Brooke World? By whoring yourself out behind your 'loved' ones backs to the people they love?"

"You don't love him!"

"I don't? I've been with him since the beginning of Freshman year! So you – you don't get to say that, Brooke! You aren't me! You don't know what I feel what I feel!"

"I've been around you both for years!" the brunette defended in vain. "I know you tried in the beginning, you looked like you could've even worked in the beginning, but breakup after breakup…fight after fight…that's not love, Peyton! That's – that's my parents! I've seen that my whole life and it's not love!"

"Stop trying to turn this around on me! If you were so concerned about me being in a loveless relationship, then why didn't you open your mouth before? During one of our many breakups, for example? And tell me not to get back together with him? You _never_ did!" she swiped her hand across the dresser, knocking a slew of things to the ground. "Oh, you opened your slutty fucking mouth, alright, but there's no way you can ever justify what you did with it!"

"I'm sorry," Brooke whimpered shamefully.

"For what? Screwing my boyfriend behind my back? Lying to me about it? Getting caught? Or…" Peyton snatched up the video camera from the floor and pulled open the LCD screen, revealing Nathan emptying into Brooke, which Peyton shoved into Brooke's face. _"Conceiving his baby?"_

Brooke tore her eyes away, unable to catch her breath. Bile was crawling up her throat and instinctively, she swallowed the acid back down. "Peyton-"

"Don't. Don't even try to fucking lie to me about this, Brooke! You think I'm stupid? Look at the date stamp!" she pointed to the date of the tape on the camera. "It can't be a coincidence that the date on this tape is exactly far long along you are!" She shoved the tape into the brunette's arms, forcing her to take it. "It certainly explains a few things, too. Like why he was so certain Jake wasn't the father and why he wanted to spend so much time at the hospital with you. You told him, didn't you? He knows! Or at the very least, you both_ think_ he's the father. Who knows for sure, though. Right? You open your legs so often-"

"Stop it! That's not fair, Peyton, and you know it!"

"How is it not fair? You've screwed so many people, Brooke! I guess I was just as stupid as you for thinking I would never be one of them!"

Brooke ached as she saw the tears careen down Peyton's cheeks. The look on the blonde's face hurt more than the welt forming on her cheek. "I never meant to hurt you," she whispered, crying too. "You're my only real friend, Peyton."

"_Was."_ Peyton turned her back to Brooke. "The day you got Nathan was the day you lost me."

"Please-"

"Get out."

"I-"

"_Get out!"_

"I have nowhere to go!"

"Which is your own damn fault! And just like you didn't care that night," she indicated the video camera in Brooke's arms, "I don't care now!"

"If things were the other way around-"

"What? If things were the other way around, then _what? _Would you forgive me, Brooke?"

"I'm not saying you don't have a right to be angry, but-"

"But nothing! You don't make a baby with someone's boyfriend and then expect that person to forgive you! The fact is: you wanted him. You wanted him, you knew exactly what you were doing, and you got him. And then you lied to me, again and again and _again!_ I trusted you, Brooke, and you played me like a fool. And I'm done. _We're_ done."

Brooke's hands trembled around the video recorder. She kept imagining her legs giving way to the enormous guilt weighing down on her chest and thriving in her womb. Her mind was clicking, trying to figure out what to do next, and suddenly she imagined herself smashing the video tape on the ground.

Meanwhile, Peyton flew to the window and jerked it open, allowing the cold air to rush inside. She suddenly grabbed one of Brooke's suitcases from the floor and threw it out onto the lawn. "I don't care where you go, just get out of my house and out of my life!" In a rampage, she began to grab trinkets of Brooke's from the desk and Brooke's clothes from the closet and fling them out the window. "You can have Nathan!" she screamed as she tossed another of Brooke's luggage bags out the window. "You're both lying, cheating, sluts that thought you could really get away with this: you deserve each other! So _get. Out._"

With tears staggering down her face, Brooke stumbled out of the room, still clutching the recorder. Her whole body felt numb as she tripped down the stairs to the front door, so badly wishing she had accepted Jake's offer to walk her inside. But his car was long gone and all she had left was the scattered remnants of her life on her former friend's lawn. She fell to her knees in the wet grass and not knowing what else to do, she sobbed.

Lights illuminated the grass mere minutes later and she heard the sound of a car coming to a stop beside the curb. Expecting to see the police, Brooke turned around to face her fate, and was shocked to see Nathan jumping out of his car. Her breath froze in her throat as he clambered over to her. "Wh – wh – what are you doing here?" she sputtered.

Nathan retrieved his cell phone from the pocket of his letterman jacket and opened up his video file. "Peyton sent it to me," he whispered, showing her a ten second cell video recording of their sex tape footage. "I came straight over after I saw it."

Suddenly Brooke grabbed the phone from his hand and hurled it into the street, busting it into several pieces. Then she slammed her hand across Nathan's face. Before he had time to recover, she began to systematically slam her fists into his chest. "You bastard!"

"Brooke-" he attempted as he tried to avoid her barrage without success.

"You ruined everything!" Her voice had reached a fever pitch as she wailed on him. "I never wanted to make that tape in the first place! You told me you'd erase it!"

"Brooke!" Nathan caught her wrists, forcefully pushing them away from him, only for Brooke to spit at him. His mouth fell a little, having not expected that at all, but he didn't react to it. Instead, he pushed Brookes arms down to her sides and pulled her towards him. "I know you're angry," he whispered.

"I'm not angry!" she hissed. "I'm fucking pissed!"

"Calm down," he pleaded. "This isn't good for the baby." His voice quivered at the last word. "Does she know about-"

"She knows _everything!_"

"Calm down," he repeated, this time releasing her wrists and wrapping his arms around her.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her anger diluting to tears. "Why are you being nice to me?" she choked.

"Because this isn't just my fault. And it's not just yours. But because we hid it, it's gonna be worse than ever now, for both of us."

"She was never supposed to find out," Brooke cried into his chest. "She was my best friend, Nate!"

"I know…" Nathan stroked her dark hair as she cried. "And that was the only reason I never tried to get more involved; I didn't want you to have to lose Peyton, I know how much she means to you." As he held Brooke in the middle of the lawn, his eyes crawled up the house to Peyton's bedroom window, where he could see her silhouette watching them. He watched her raise her hand and cast one final thing onto the ground, just a few feet from him and Brooke. It landed with a clink, just before the shattering slam of the window.

Brooke jerked out of his grasp with a jump. Her cries became louder as she saw the closed window and now pitch black room, which held so many memories. She pressed her hand to her mouth, muffling the anguish.

Nathan bent down to pick up what Peyton had thrown and discovered it was the key to the beach house that, unbeknownst to him, his mother had given Peyton. He slid the object into his pocket and began to pick up strewn clothes and luggage bags that belonged to Brooke.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting these in the car."

"I don't have anywhere to go."

"Yes you do. You're coming with me."

"I think we've already been in enough trouble being with each other, don't you think?"

"We can't do anything about that now," he replied as he dropped her belongings into the backseat. "All we can do is move forward."

"And where's that?"

"I don't know yet, but you can start by getting in the passenger seat."

Brooke looked between the dark house and the car, which was still running. She held her belly with both arms, feeling more naked and exposed than she'd ever felt in her life. Slowly, she began to nod and get into the car. As Nathan pulled onto the street she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"If you could take it back, would you? Having sex with me?"

Brooke slipped her fingers beneath her shirt and traced her belly. "I've lost so much because I had sex with you," she murmured. But each day that she felt the life Nathan had planted inside her, the more she loved it. "I don't think it would be worth not knowing this feeling, though. Not being able to feel this being growing and moving and flourishing inside me."

"If you could do it over, with one change – if I wasn't the father – would you do it then?"

She felt like someone had taken a remote control and muted her. She wanted to answer, but she had no idea where to begin or what to say. Instead, she kicked off her shoes and pulled her knees up onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Brooke?"

"I don't want to have this conversation right now."

"And what would be a better time to have it?" he asked sarcastically.

"When my hormones aren't all over the place and when I'm not still reeling from losing my best friend and when I'm not stressed out of my mind and wondering what tomorrow will bring."

"The baby's going to be here in a matter of months, Brooke. Everything you just said is only going to snowball from here on out. So I ask again: what would be a better time to have this conversation?"

"_Never."_

"Not an option."

"And who are you to tell me what my options are?"

"I'm that baby's father," he replied decisively. "And I have a say. It's out in the open now, Brooke. Peyton knows and it's only a matter of time before everyone else knows too. Which means, I get a say now."

"Maybe I don't want you to?"

"Even if that was true, not everyone always gets what they want in life."

"How do you know it's not true?"

"Do you remember that night I came to your house after you'd been in the hospital? The night I brought you the onesie?"

"What about it?"

"Do you remember what we said?"

"_I don't get it," she whispered. "Why would you want to take on this burden when I'm giving you the easiest out?"_

_Nathan glanced at the basketball dribbling teddy bear. "I don't know," he spoke sarcastically. "Why do you want to take on this burden when you could have a way out?"_

"_I don't want to be my mother," she replied instantly._

"_And I don't want to be my father." He lifted his fingers to her face and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "See, I told you we were too much alike."_

"Superman and Wonder Woman," she murmured.

"What?"

Brooke hugged her legs a little harder. "Nothing, I was just…we said we didn't want to be our parents," she answered.

"So don't do this, Brooke. Don't make it harder than it already is."

"What is this?" Dark threads of hair danced around her face as she shook her head. "Are you – are you fighting for me?" she dared to ask, her voice barely a whisper.


	40. Chapter Forty

**A/N: **Well that was better than I thought, I was afraid there might be more Peyton hating/bashing. Thanks to everyone who did not do that. Aaaaand, onto the next chapter! Woo!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty**

"_Nathan!"_

Brooke jumped at the sound of Deb's voice and dropped her legs to the floor of the car with an enormous thud. She'd been waiting for Nathan's answer to her question and hadn't even noticed how close they were to his house, nor his mother waiting on the sidewalk for them, looking ready to murder someone.

Nathan calmly pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, watching his mom approach them from his rearview mirror. When he reached for the door, it opened before he even got his hand on to it.

"What the hell is going on!" Deb shouted, leaving no room for him to answer. "Your phone goes off once and you run out in the middle of our conversation!" She jabs her finger in the direction of his car. "To go driving, no less! Need I remind you, you won't be sixteen until tomorrow and you don't even have a driver's license yet!"

Nathan exhaled slowly. "Everyone I know drives around town with permits-"

"Well you're not everyone! You're _my son_ and _my son_ doesn't drive around alone without his license."

"I know how to drive-"

"You can be the best driver in the world with a permit, but it's still the rest of the world you have to watch out for! All it would take would be for someone to hit you and then what? You'd have your license taken away before you even got it!"

"It was an emergency!"

"What could be so important?" Deb barked. She looked at the car, only then realizing that Brooke was curled up in the passenger seat, watching them. Her breath hitched. "Brooke, I-"

"I had to pick Brooke up."

Deb shifted her eyes between the two. "Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice a few shades softer than before. "Is Peyton okay?" she inquired, recalling that the two girls had been staying together.

"No," Nathan replied. "Actually, she's not."

Deb pressed her hand to her chest without even realizing it. "What happened?"

"It's not what you think," Brooke spoke up. "She's not hurt or anything, not physically."

"Then…what happened?"

Brooke and Nathan looked to each other, unsure of how to break the news to Deb. Instead of answer, Nathan rounded the car and opened the passenger door so Brooke could get out.

"Did something happen between you girls? A falling out?" Deb asked, recalling fights and broken friendships she'd had in high school and college.

"That's an understatement," Brooke muttered.

"The short answer is that Brooke doesn't have anywhere to stay," Nathan spoke up, directing his hand to the latter's belongings in the backseat. "I was hoping-"

"She could stay here?" Deb folded her arms. "You should've asked, Nathan. I know she's your friend, but…" she drew in several breaths, unsure of how to proceed with her words without sounding hypocritical.

"But she's pregnant?" Nathan filled in.

Brooke placed her hand on Nathan's. "Nate," she shook her head.

Deb rubbed her arms beneath her shall as she examined the looks between her son and ex-cheerleader. Suddenly she nodded. "It's late," she spoke up, interrupting their silent communication. "Brooke can spend the night." She nodded towards the house. "Have you had anything to eat tonight?"

Brooke held her stomach. "No."

"I haven't put dinner away. Are you hungry?"

"Kinda, yeah."

Deb waved her hands, funneling Brooke and Nathan up to and inside the house. She caught the look Nathan passed Brooke that expressed his confusion at her sudden change in demeanor, but decided not to comment on it. "Come with me," she spoke to the teenage girl. "Nathan, why don't you go fix up the guest bedroom?"

"Sure."

Brooke followed Deb into the kitchen, walking on proverbial eggshells the whole time. She hovered in the entrance, inhaling the smells of a honey glazed ham and vinaigrette dressing.

"Come sit," Deb coaxed, as she placed a plate at the table.

"Thank you, Mrs. Scott."

"Water? Milk? Lemonade?"

"Milk, please."

"Absolutely." Deb eyed Brooke as the latter shoveled slices of gravy smothered ham into her mouth. She filled a glass of milk just close enough to the top that it wouldn't slosh out when she carried it to the table and placed it in front of Brooke. Anticipating correctly the girl's reaction, she also snatched up a napkin and handed it to Brooke in the wake of her milk mustache.

"Did you make this?"

"Believe it or not, I did. Since I've taken more time off and been at home, I've been honing my culinary skills. They aren't that great, mind you, but I'm getting better."

"It's great, Mrs. Scott."

Deb pulled out the chair opposite Brooke and slid into the seat. She inhaled noisily and then looked Brooke straight in the eyes. "I have to ask you something, Brooke."

Brooke sat up a little straighter. "Yes?"

"Nathan's the father," she spoke directly. "Isn't he?"

Brooke's lips shuddered. "H-h-how – did he…"

"No." Deb shook her head. "Not directly, anyway." She sighed. "A few months ago, he asked me something that – that just seemed a little off. And later I confronted Peyton about it; I thought she might be pregnant, but she said she wasn't and she was adamant about it. And then, here you are. And the way Nathan looks at you…" she swallowed the lump in her throat. "…it's the same way Dan would look at Karen during the few times the three of us were ever in the same room together." She closed her eyes. "And the way he'd look at Peyton mirrored the way Dan looked at me."

Brooke lifted her glass of milk from the table, feeling so uncomfortable that she needed something to hide behind, even if she was just a cup she was pretending to drink from. _I can't believe she's actually comparing Nathan and I to Dan and Karen. He doesn't even have anything to do with his other son! That's nothing like Nathan!_

"This is why you aren't staying with Peyton anymore, isn't it? She found out?"

Brooke bounced her head back and forth. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you're being gracious to me under these circumstances, but I'd really rather not talk about this-"

"I understand." Deb reached her hand across the table and placed it on Brooke's. "I understand you plan to keep the baby?"

"I want to. That's why I got a job. It's just-"

"Hard."

"Yeah."

"I understand. I've been there." She nodded. "But luckily I had the support of my family. And Dan and his parents, for whatever that was worth. And I just want you to know, you have that same support from me."

Nathan returned to the kitchen. "The room's done."

Deb quickly stood up. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night. If you need anything, just let one of us know, alright?"

"Thank you."

"I'll show you where-"

"I've been to your house enough times to know where the guest bedroom is," Brooke cut him off. "Thanks, I'll be fine."

As Brooke made her way down the hall, Deb placed a hand to her son's shoulder. "We need to talk."

"It's late-"

"I know about the baby," she whispered.

Nathan stiffened between his mother's hand. Wordlessly, he wormed out from her grasp and headed towards the living room. When he got there, he turned to her and folded his arms. "What did she tell you?"

"She didn't have to, I deduced that myself. Let's just say I recognized the signs." She shook her head in disappointment. "How could you, Nathan! What would possess you to be so irresponsible?"

"You're one to talk!"

"Exactly! How could you not learn from my mistakes? From your _father's_ mistakes?"

Nathan seethed. "I'm nothing like him!" he snarled. "I-" he pointed in the direction they'd come from "-asked her to be involved, unlike your husband!"

"I'm talking about why you didn't try to prevent this in the first place. Why didn't you-"

"I was drunk, okay? Does that make you happy?"

Deb closed her eyes. "Of course not." She shook her head regretfully. "You're going to make this right, you know."

"I already-"

"You're not going to rely solely on me like your father did on my family. You're going to have to get a job, Nathan. If Brooke keeps this baby, you have to step up. This baby will come before everything else, even basketball. Do you understand?"

"I know."

"I'm glad you know." She bowed her head. "Go to bed, Nate. You've got a long day ahead of your tomorrow…and the next eighteen plus years."

Nathan waited for whatever else his mother had to say, but it didn't come, nor did she even raise her head to look at him, so he finally shuffled out of the living room, making his way towards his bedroom. As he moved by the guest bedroom, he heard a recurring sound and paused. Through the door, he could hear what he thought sounded like crying. He ached to push the door open, but he fought the urge. _I'm probably the last person she wants to talk to right now._

He could still scarcely believe everything that had happened in the past few hours. Peyton discovering the sex tape and Brooke now residing in his guest bedroom weren't even on the last of the list of things he might've expected upon waking up that morning. Those few hours alone had left him utterly drained. _I can only imagine how she feels._

After what seemed like an eternity later, when the crying had finally stopped – or at least gotten to a point that he couldn't make it out anymore – Nathan finally continued back to his bedroom, where he shut and locked his door and collapsed on his red comforter. For a few minutes he just stayed in one spot, then he rolled over and saw the time on his alarm clock: midnight. Bitterly he remarked, "Happy birthday to me."


	41. Chapter Forty One

**A/N: **Sorry, I wanted to update a few days ago, but I'm in the middle of a forced move right now and my laptop was packed in a box for three days. Also, I haven't been in a good mood due to said circumstances, so I'm sorry if this chapter isn't up to par.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-One**

Brooke awoke with a violent jerk and sharp inhale of breath. When her eyes opened, she was staring at a foreign ceiling and the sensation of falling was still fresh in her mind. She sat up with a start and looked around the room, before the events of the previous night came flooding back to her. She hunched over, feeling vaguely relieved until she heard a gentle knock on her door.

"Brooke? Are you awake?"

"Come in."

Deb entered the room, holding a blue bowl with a slither of steam curling out the top. "I made some oatmeal if you're hungry."

Brooke leaned against the headboard as Deb approached with the bowl. Her stomach audibly growled. "Thanks," she mumbled as she took the bowl and began to carefully blow across the top of it.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Tired. Achy. Pregnant."

The blonde seated herself on the edge of the bed and gently patted Brooke's leg. "I remember. How's the morning sickness?"

"Not as bad as it was in the first trimester. But it still gets me every now and then."

"Do you have any appointments with the doctor coming up?"

"No," the teen sighed. "Not since my parents kicked me out."

Deb nodded understandably. "Well, look, Nathan's got his driver's test today, so we'll be leaving in about an hour or so. You're welcome to come with us-"

"Uh, well…"

"But you're as equally welcome to stay here and rest if you need to." At Brooke's look of relief, Deb shook her head. "Alright then. Feel free to anything in the kitchen."

"I know I must sound like a broken record, but…thank you again. I know this must be so hard for you-"

"Brooke, sweetheart, you don't need to apologize. I've been there; I understand. It's a terrifying place that you're in right now and I want to help." She stood up and placed her hand to her mouth, pacing in place.

"Am I right in feeling like there's a qualification coming?"

Deb absently tapped the edge of her teeth with her knuckles. "I do want to help," she repeated. "But I don't want you to get the wrong impression here: I don't condone teen pregnancy," she explained sternly. "Nathan seems to think it's hypocritical, but I simply don't want to any child to have to have such a responsibility on their shoulders before their time. Least of all my own son."

Brooke blinked back the wetness forming in her eyes. _Stupid hormones!_ She rubbed the back of her hand to her eyes. "I know, I'm sorry. It wasn't like we wanted this to happen-"

"I know. I know!" Deb suddenly embraced Brooke in a hug. "I wasn't trying to insinuate that; accidents happen. It just breaks my heart that it had to happen to you and Nathan."

Brooke clutched Deb like a child to her teddy bear and began to openly weep. "How can things spiral out of control so fast? One day you're just living your life and worrying about whether you did your homework last night and then the next you're standing out in the cold, fat and alone, and wondering where you'll be tomorrow? How is that fair?" she sobbed. "H-how is that fair?"

Deb stroked Brooke's hair. "Shhh…it's okay. You're not alone anymore."

Brooke sniffled into Deb's shoulder. "Why couldn't I have had a mom like you?" she whispered.

Outside the bedroom, Nathan was pressed against the wall. Looking down at his hands, he realized they were shaking. _How am I supposed to take a driving test when I'm this unnerved?_ The sounds from the other side of the wall spiraled chills across his skin. He'd been unable to sleep the night before, with his mind on Brooke and the baby and their unforeseeable future. The one thing he had to be thankful for was that Peyton had found out at the start of summer, so he and Brooke wouldn't have to walk through the doors of Tree Hill High and face the whispers immediately following.

"Nathan? What are you doing? We've got to leave shortly-"

"I know, I was just-" His voice trailed off as Brooke stepped out of the bedroom. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How'd you sleep?" he asked, knowing full well the answer.

"Fine."

Nathan nodded. _We lie so much in the English language._

"Your mom said you have a driving test today."

"Yeah…" Nathan raked his fingers through his hair and began to self consciously wonder if there were visible dark circles under his eyes, because he suddenly felt as though Brooke was staring at him and he couldn't tell if it was his imagination or not.

"Good luck. I hope you don't get the-"

"Yeah, I've heard about her-"

"Right. Well…" Brooke hugged her stomach. "I'm gonna go take a shower if you don't mind."

Nathan tried to look away as she left, but he felt his eyes lingering on her from his peripheral sight. When he heard the bathroom door close, he released a little groan.

"Did you find the muffin I heated up for you?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Deb frowned as she walked alongside her son down the hallway. "You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

"I was not-"

"I'm not an idiot, Nathan." She shook her head as she grabbed her keys from the key rack. "That poor girl, she's been through a lot. I hope you're taking something away from this."

"Are you trying to make me feel worse than I already do?"

"I'm just glad you're feeling something."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snarled. "You act like this is all my fault! It's not just me, you know. It wasn't like I forced Brooke or anything."

Deb shook her head. "I know it takes two. And I'm sorry if you feel that way…maybe I just sympathize with Brooke more since I've been there. Or maybe I'm just more disappointed in you because I feel like you should've known better than anyone the consequences of sex." She revved the engine. "Maybe I'm just disappointed in myself," she sighed. "If I'd been around more-"

"It might've happened anyway," Nathan blurted out, surprising even himself.

Deb glanced at him. "What's going on between you and Brooke right now? I know you've been friends for a long time, but…"

"But what? What're you implying?"

"How do you feel about her?" she rephrased.

"She's my friend."

"Friends don't just sleep together."

"Obviously a lot has changed since you've been a teenager," he snapped.

"Do you have _feelings_ for her, Nathan?" she asked point blank. From the corner of her eye, she watched him struggle to answer her question and four blocks later, she finally spoke up again, this time to change the subject. "I'm going to see if I can set up a doctor's appointment within the next few weeks. Prenatal health is critical, especially since she's been in the hospital on two separate occasions."

Nathan propped his elbow against the armrest and sat his chin in his hand. "That's probably a good idea."

"Hospital visits aren't cheap."

"I know."

"_Do you?"_ she challenged. "Who do you think is going to pay for the prenatal care?" Wisps of blonde hair bounced around her chin as she shook her head in pure disappointment. _"Well?"_

"I don't know!" he exploded. "I don't know! Does it look like I have all the answers? Isn't there…isn't there some kind of government help she can get?"

Deb scoffed. "After your test – whether you pass or not – we're taking a trip downtown. I'd like you to see firsthand just how expensive having a child is: clothes, furniture, food, diapers, bottles, car seats, cribs…the whole nine yards! And then we're going to find out who's hiring and you're going to start filling out applications."

"Mom-"

"Don't. Just _don't_. It's the beginning of summer, so the only priorities you have right now are Brooke and that baby. Because you know what? _You're_ going to pay for Brooke's prenatal care. If that little girl is going to carry that baby for nine months and go through labor to give birth to your daughter or son without the support or her family or friends, then the least you can do is man up and pay for her healthcare. Do you even know how far along she is?"

"About five and a half months."

"And how long have you known?"

"About what?"

"You know what: how long have you known that the baby is yours?"

"A while."

"And how long were you planning on keeping it a secret?"

"_She_ didn't want to tell! She – she didn't want Peyton to know."

"And I'm sure that suited you just fine," Deb scowled. "Like father, like son."

His soul cringed. As much as he resisted comparison to his father, he couldn't deny that – at least for a while – going on without Peyton knowing had suited him. Like most things in life, Peyton knowing and Peyton not knowing each had their own long list of pros and cons. Plus – or at least he liked to think – he had been a different person five months ago.

Suddenly a question burned on the tip of his tongue. "Did you ever love Dan?" He noticed he'd caught her visibly off guard.

"We were young-"

"That wasn't my question."

"I know." Her fingertips relaxed around the steering wheel. "I was enchanted by him, I guess you could say. He was handsome and suave when we met and we clicked right away. Whirlwind, I guess you could say. Everyone warned me about him – my parents, my brother, my friends – they all saw something I couldn't. And honestly, at the time, I thought I did love him."

"But you didn't?"

"Not like I should have. When I found out I was pregnant with you, we were still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship. I still had hope back then, that we could make it work. Looking back, Karen and Lucas should've been a red flag." She heard Nathan sneer under his breath, but ignored it. "After we got married and reality set in, I don't know…"

"You stayed together out of necessity? Because of me?"

"Yes…and no. I think some part of me did love Dan. There were little things, little flashes, of a man I wanted to love; _could_ love. But there was always this distance between us that I couldn't bridge."

"If I hadn't been a factor, do you think you would've still married him at some point? Or was that 'love' that you thought you had just there because you were tied by a kid?"

"In spite of the way things are between your father and I right now – in spite of all the truly horrible things he's done – I do still believe there's some aspects of him, perhaps buried so far down even he doesn't know they're there, that I still care for. But not romantically; not anymore. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think I'd still love him – as a friend – even if we hadn't had you. But, I'm glad we did. There are a lot of things that aren't good about Dan Scott, but I can say without question, that you are a lifetime away from being one of them." As they pulled into the DMV parking lot, she cast her gaze onto her son. "Why the sudden interest?"

"I…" _Was just wondering if all situations like this are doomed. _"…was just curious." He relined his head into the head rest. "Do you think…"

Deb's ears perked at the question. "What?"

_If Dan had married Karen, they would've worked?_ The question burned in his mouth, but he couldn't find the breath to push out. There were so many mixed emotions there, so many hard feelings, and there was still a part of him that didn't want to know what that answer might be. Especially if it was the wrong one. "Never mind."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." He unbuckled his seatbelt. "We're here anyway, gotta go."

Deb tossed her son the keys and proceeded to get out of the car. She scuttled to catch up with him on his face to the double doors and draped her arm around his shoulders to give him a little reassuring squeeze. "You're going to do great!"

Nathan's mind flashed to Brooke's face as they stepped inside. "I hope so."


	42. Chapter Forty Two

**A/N: **I think you all are really going to like this one. ;)

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-Two**

"Whatcha doin'?"

Nathan looked up from the scattered papers in front of him as Brooke walked into the kitchen. He did a double take as he realized she was wearing one of his t-shirts and then noticed her hair was wet.

Brooke's cheeks flushed. "Sorry," she squeaked. "I threw a load of stuff in the wash, but they weren't dry yet. I probably just should've waited, but I was feeling kind of achy and thought a hot bath might help…"

"It's fine," Nathan recovered with a half smile. He wasn't about to admit it to her, but he liked the way the edge of his shirt swished around her milky thighs as she walked and although it was loose fitting, her stomach protruded against the underside of the cloth, making her pregnancy obvious.

Brooke slid into the chair across from him and picked up one of the papers. "Are these-"

"Job applications."

Brooke frowned. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"This was probably your mom's idea, wasn't it?" she sighed as she set the application back down on the pile. "Nobody should have to spend their birthday filling out job applications."

"What else is there to do?" he asked with an air of sarcasm.

"Oh, I don't know, spending the night partying with your friends on the beach?" Brooke suddenly pulled her legs up onto the edge of the chair and yanked down Nathan's t-shirt over her knees and hugged them to her chest. "I just feel bad for fucking that up."

"Those people aren't my friends anyway. They come for the free boos and the sex."

"Still," she sighed. "It's your Sweet Sixteen, it should be special."

Nathan snorted. "Come on, Brooke. I'm not a girl, I don't need a tiara and a new pink convertible to celebrate my sixteenth birthday…and I certainly don't need to call it a 'Sweet Sixteen.'"

Brooke glared. "You don't have to be an ass, either. Or make sexist remarks."

"How was that sexist?"

"You sound like you're talking about a ten-year-old!" She rolled her eyes. "Crowns and pink cars. What the hell?"

Nathan dropped the pen he was holding and looked Brooke square in the face. A guilty pang flicked his gut. "Sorry."

Brooke chewed her lip a moment while slightly rocking back and forth on the chair, then she rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, whatever…just don't make generalizations like that, okay?"

"Since when did you become such a feminist?"

"I've always been a feminist. Proud to be a woman; not afraid to express my sexuality; never really been into those 'traditional' roles."

"So…marriage and kids, you never saw yourself like that?"

The smile dropped from Brooke's lips. "Well, no, not exactly. I mean…I certainly never envisioned myself like this," she said, using her hands to make a rounding gesture out in front of her. "Not in high school, anyway. I – I guess I can't really say what I thought about the future. I never thought too hard about it, not becoming Cheer Captain that is. I always kind of figured…I don't know, that I'd follow Peyton to college somewhere and we'd be roommates, ya know? My parents had the money and everything and what else were they gonna do with me anyway? As for marriage, I just…I'm not that girl."

"So it's never something you wanted?"

"No, I mean…I'm not the girl that a guy wants to bring home to meet the parents. Guys hang with me for fun – whatever that entails – and then move on."

"That's not true."

"Yeah? Please enlighten me: who has ever hung out with me just for me?"

"Jake."

"Jake doesn't count," she scoffed. "He only hung out with me because of the pregnancy. I mean, yeah, we became friends after that, but it still doesn't count."

Nathan unconsciously flexed his jaw as he tried to think of someone else. "Me."

"Ha!" she hugged her knees as she laughed. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny."

"It's true!"

"Yeah right. You hung out with me because…because I was Peyton's friend. And a cheerleader. And you're a jock. And we're both…"

"Sluts?"

"_Thanks."_ She glowered.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then how _did_ you mean it?"

"It was meant as more of a commentary on me. I just…it came out. I wasn't trying to be a dick."

"Fail."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Yeah," she exhaled. "Me either." She suddenly bounced up from her seat. "Hey, where're the cooking books?"

The basketball star shrugged as he scribble his social security number into one of the boxes on the application. "Cupboard, maybe?"

"That helps!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that was sarcasm."

Brooke rolled her eyes as she pressed against the edge of the table and strained on her tip toes, reaching for the top shelf of one of the cabinets. "Good thing you're getting a basketball scholarship."

Nathan looked up to retort to her quip and stopped as he saw the edge of his shirt slowly hiking up, revealing more and more of her thigh and the crest of her left buttocks. He paused, with his mouth half open, to watch as the edge of the shirt rubbed up and down against her skin as she bounced on her toes. Finally realizing that it wasn't going to go any higher, he pushed his chair back and made his way up behind her, where he pressed his right hand to the counter edge as a brace and moved his body to align with Brooke's, before reaching parallel with her arm to grab the book she was after.

The ex-cheerleader went rigid as she felt Nathan's body brush against the back of hers as he leaned in for the cook book. She resisted the urge to lean into him, but also ignored the voice in her head that told her to move out of his way. _Besides, he's kind of blocked me in._

"Here."

Brooke accepted the cook and twisted her head as far as it would go on her neck to shoot him a grateful smile. "Thanks," she replied, expecting him to immediately move away, though he didn't.

"I didn't know you cooked."

"I don't, but I figure, it's your birthday, right? Might as well try to make some cake." Nathan couldn't help but laugh, prompting Brooke to punch him in the chest. "Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"It was the implication," she glared. "Hey, if I can give birth, I can make a stupid ass cake, right?"

Nathan held up his hands defensively and backed away. "Do whatever you like," he conceded. "I'm not even gonna mess with that."

"Fine! I will." She stole a glance at him from behind as he walked back to the table and then quickly turned her attention back to the recipes. After locating the cake section in the index, she began skimming through the various cake flavors in the elected section. "What kind do you like?"

"My favorite is red velvet with cream cheese frosting."

"Really?" Brooke mused. "I had no idea. I would've had you pegged for chocolate, myself."

"My grandmother makes this _killer_ homemade red velvet and cream cheese frosting cake. You just can't go back from that." He flipped over the application he was working on. "Chocolate is okay, but I'm more of a vanilla person myself."

"But that's so bland and boring!"

"It depends, box brands usually are, but some vanilla cakes are fantastic. My uncle used to have a girlfriend who was a cake decorator for a living and the family she worked for made some of the best vanilla cakes I've ever had." He rolled his eyes. "Ironically, they broke up a week before my tenth birthday."

"Tough break."

"Tell me about it. I could've had the coolest fucking NBA cake there ever was! But…_no_."

Brooke drug her finger down the recipe she was inspecting as she listened to him. "Apparently I need a lot of flour for this thing," she reported. "Where's it at?" From the corner of her eye, she saw his raise his hand to point. "Thanks." She moved to the cupboard and opened it to find a spice rack, a bag of sugar, and a bag of flour. Knowing she'd need both, she grabbed for the sugar first and as she pulled it down, the flour bag caught on her knuckles and came sliding off the shelf.

With a yelp, the brunette released the sugar and attempted to jump back, but was too late: the flour hit the counter and billowed from the package, followed immediately by the sugar, which made a hissing noise as it began to bleed from the bag and roll over the counter edge like a crystalline waterfall.

By the time the stuffy white cloud began to thin out, Brooke became aware of the deep, throaty laughter of the newly turned sixteen-year-old at the table. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but instead inhaled a puff of flour and violently sneezed, causing another plume of white powder to blow into the air.

"It's hard to tell, but I think you cheeks might be red beneath all that flour!" Nathan jeered. He got up from the table again, still laughing, and retrieved a broom and dust pan. He left footprints on the floor as he sifted through the mess.

"If you don't stop making fun of me, that's not the only thing that will be red!" she threatened, raising her fist in irritation and embarrassment.

"I'm so scared!" he taunted as he began to sweep the flour from the floor into the dust pan. Unable to restrain himself he added, "Who 'm gonna call?"

"Oh!" Brooke curled her fists as he laughed even harder and then suddenly grabbed the spilt bag, which had roughly an eighth of flour left at the bottom, and threw it at Nathan, completely dousing his face and shirt in whiteness. "You don't wanna play with this ghost, Scott. I'll bust you up!"

"Put your money where your mouth is, Davis!" Nathan released the mop, allowing it to hit the tile floor with a hallow thud, then swiped his hand across the countertop, hitting Brooke with a tsunami of flour and sugar.

Brooke shrieked and dodged, unsuccessfully, to avoid the attack. Her slippers skidded onto the sugar granules on the floor and she collided right into Nathan, who instinctively embraced her to ensure she wouldn't fall.

With powder clouds swirling around them like mist in a swamp, they couldn't help but cough, but in spite of themselves, they were laughing. Hysterically! The cycle was laughter would bring fresh flour into their mouths and up their noses, infuriating their sinuses, and deepening the coughing and laughing and slipping and sliding all over again.

Still clutching Brooke with one arm, Nathan used the other to brace himself against the counter. As the flour in the air began to fall back to the floor, he couldn't help but notice the way the flour had attached itself to Brooke's long eyelashes and culminated on her nose and cheeks, like a child who had gotten into her grandmother's powder box. Without really thinking about it, he took his index finger and brushed the flour from her nose, leaving a line down the bridge of her nose.

Brooke stopped laughing, but Nathan didn't seem to notice as she watched him reach for the dish cloth hanging on the faucet. For the first time, she became truly conscious of Nathan's arm encircling her waist and angled her head to look down at it.

"Close your eyes."

"Huh?"

"I don't want you to get flour in your eyes, so close them," he explained.

Trusting his judgment, she shut her eyes and soon felt the warm dish cloth wiping away the powder from her lashes. Something moved deep inside her and she knew it wasn't the baby. At that moment, she was glad Nathan was holding her, because she feared she might melt to the floor like chocolate on a summer dashboard if he wasn't.

"There." Nathan noted, satisfied. "All better."

Brooke ached for him to continue, but when he didn't, she finally caved and opened her eyes again, where she found herself staring into Nathan's. "Thanks," she squeaked.

Nathan nodded as he dropped the cloth back into the sink, without breaking eye contact. His eyes shifted a bit, examining the crevices of her face, which the dusting of flour seemed to highlight like lead over paper indentations. He couldn't help but notice how white her lips were, almost as though she were wearing Halloween makeup, and he immediately found himself wondering what they tasted like. An image of him leaning in to lick the powder of her lips found his mind and before he knew what he was doing, he felt gravity pulling him forward.

"What on Earth is going on in here?"


	43. Chapter Forty Three

**A/N: **Hehe, bad time for someone to arrive, huh? Oh boy…

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-Three**

Brooke jumped at the words, scampering backwards, out of Nathan's arm and away from his impending body. She was thankful for the flour still caked on her cheeks, because that way Deb couldn't see how truly horrified she was. "I'm so sorry!" she rattled off. "This is all my fault! I – I-"

"Was trying to make a cake," Nathan interjected. "For me. For my birthday. And the flour bag fell off the shelf."

"And I dropped the sugar." Brooke shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Scott! I'll clean this entire kitchen up, I promise! It'll look better than how I found it. And – and I'll pay for the ingredients!"

Deb looked suspiciously between the teens. Her eyes flicked up and down Nathan, then Brooke, and she mentally noted that the girl was indeed wearing a shirt she herself had bought for her son.

Under Deb's scrutiny, Brooke self consciously looked down at herself and realized why. She grabbed the edge of the shirt and attempted in vain to tug it down a little more over her floury legs. "My clothes-" she began, only to be interrupted by the timely ding from the laundry room. She forced a smile in response. "-are done! I can change right after-"

"Why don't you go change now?" Deb suggested with a nod.

"But-"

"Don't worry about the kitchen, Brooke. Nathan and I will take care of it." After a brief silence, she watched Brooke nod and scamper out of the kitchen. She turned to the table and brushed her son's applications aside to make room for the store bought cake that filled her arms.

"It was an accident," Nathan defended.

"I'm sure it was," Deb agreed. She folded her arms and she surveyed the mess. "A very messy one. But one we've just got to deal with now, don't we?"

"What are we talking about?"

"The kitchen," Deb answered, motioning her hand. "What else?" She strode along the tile and bent down, collecting the dusty broom that Nathan had pulled out earlier. She held it out to her son, who took it. "Tried a little sweeping tonight, did you?"

"Excuse me?"

Deb shrugged as she grabbed the dish cloth from the sink, rung it out, and then turned on the water to rinse it. "Nothing."

"What's wrong?"

"Why would something be wrong?"

"You seem…annoyed, on edge…something."

Deb stopped wiping the counter and slumped her shoulders in time with a loud groan. "I got a call from my brother today."

"Uncle Coop?" A smile bore onto Nathan's lips. "How's he doing?"

Deb snorted. "You know your uncle."

"Oh." Nathan uttered knowingly. "So he's picked up a new flavor this month?"

"I think he called her Tanya. Met her on the track."

Nathan nodded, half smirking. "Good for him, I guess."

"He also wanted me to 'give a shout out' to his 'favorite nephew' on his birthday."

"Too busy to call me himself?"

"He says he's called you several times and you haven't picked up?"

"The house phone hasn't rung since you dropped me off."

Deb folded her arms. "Where's your cell?"

Nathan blanched, recalling how Brooke how destroyed his phone in the street after seeing that Peyton had sent him a recording of part of their sex tape. "Oh," he muttered. "It uh…I need a new one, come to think of it."

"Since when? Didn't we just pay for a new phone at the beginning of the school year?"

"Since the night I picked Brooke up from Peyton's," he replied in low toned admittance.

"I'm not going to ask why," she said calmly. "Just answer me this: Brooke or Peyton?"

"Brooke."

"Mmm." Deb scratched the back of her neck. "Well," she said, changing tracks, "he also wanted me to tell you he's sending your gift in the mail. _Today._"

"Typical Coop."

Deb rolled her eyes. "Says he's sorry it won't get here until after your birthday, but-"

"'_Better late than never!'"_ Nathan interjected, imitating his uncle's voice. He carefully dumped the near overflowing dust pan into the trash, without causing too many flour clouds as it poured in.

"I think we're going to need to mop this down," Deb noted as she examined the flour footprints all over the tile.

"Yeah, I'll take care of it."

Deb wadded up the empty sugar and flour bags and made an exaggerated pose before flicking them into the trashcan. She winked at her son. "Oh! Two for two! What d'ya think? Could I go pro?"

"Ehhh," Nathan waned, wobbling his hand from side to side. "I think you need to work on your form."

"Oh!" she replied with a mock wince. "Why you gotta be hatin'?"

Nathan shook his head, restraining a laugh. "Please!" he begged. "Never say that again!"

Deb playfully wadded up the dish cloth and chucked it at her son, who caught it one handedly. She rolled her eyes. "You're no fun." She skirted around him to go find the mop as he moved over to the sink.

A half an hour later, Brooke stepped out of the shower for the second time that day. The bath mat was still damp from the first time, which made it cool against her water wrinkled toes, in contrast to tropic style humidity of the steam in the air. She reached towards the toilet for her clothes, consisting of a plain white scoop neck lace bottom baby doll top with bubble sleeves and a pair of maternity jeans that had come from the bag of clothing Lydia had given her. She quickly ran the towel over her body and hair several times, then transferred into her selected attire and stepped in front of the steamy mirror.

With her left hand, she wiped the mirror down enough so that she could see a slightly distorted version of herself in the glass. With a groan, she noticed how uncomfortable she looked, thanks heavily to the bra she was wearing beneath her top. _Just another thing from my old life that doesn't fit anymore._ Brooke lifted her brush and began to run it through her wet hair until she could run her fingers through it without friction, then finally flicked off the light and stepped out of the bathroom.

She didn't hear anything as she cautiously made her way down the hall, half expecting to see Deb and Nathan still in the kitchen by the time she got there. To her surprise, the kitchen was spotless and the only thing she saw was the store cake Deb had brought home, now displayed, open, on the counter. Brooke took a step forward to take a look at it, when the doorbell rang. Twisting around, she expected to see or hear someone coming, but neither seemed to happen. As she debated whether or not to answer herself, it rang again, this time followed by an impatient knock.

"Fine, fine!" Brooke grumbled to the open air. "I'll get it." She pushed a wave of wet hair behind her shoulder as she strolled over to the door and unlocked it, expecting to see a girl scout or UPS man or someone attempting to convert her. Instead, she was befuddled to discover an older couple standing on the porch, the woman carrying a large pan in her arms like a bundled infant. "Can I help you?" she asked timidly.

The woman, with a short bob similar to Deb's, though significantly paler in color, looked Brooke up and down suspiciously, before exchanging silent looks with the gray haired man beside her. Then she seemed to force a smile onto her lips and ask sweetly, "Are you the house keeper?"

Brooke the heat rush to her cheeks. All her life she'd had house keepers and to be assumed to be one just reinforced how far she'd fallen. _How the hell am I supposed to explain who I am or why I'm here?_

"Do you speak English, dear?"

The brunette felt her mouth unhinge. _Do I look Latino to you?_ Her lips quivered to spit out the retort, but she held her tongue. "Yes, and no, I'm _not_ the house keeper. May I ask who-"

"Then _who _are you?" the man demanded.

"Brooke," she replied automatically. "Brooke Davis. And you-"

"And can you tell us where our grandson is, Ms. Davis?"

Brooke felt all the color effectively drain from her face. As she looked at the couple more intently, she could see noticeable parallels between the man in front of her, Dan, and of course Nathan. "I, uh, I-"

"Deborah!" The elderly blonde squealed, looking past Brooke into the house.

Brooke whirled around to see Deb halt in her tracks as she came into view, like a deer caught in the headlights. She heard what sounded like Nathan's laugh for the briefest moment, before it was sharply cut off as Nathan walked in behind her.

"May! Royal!" Deb gasped, looking horrified. "I – I didn't know you were coming!"

May squeezed through the doorway with a beam on her face. "We thought we'd surprise Nathan for his birthday!" she grinned while peeling the tin foil off the top of the pan she was holding. She proudly flashed the pan towards Nathan and Deb, revealing a gorgeous unfrosted burgundy cake. "Red velvet! Your favorite!"

"I tried to tell her you'd have plans, but she insisted," Royal griped. He flicked his eyes about the room as he entered the residence. "Where's Dan?" he asked gruffly.

May rolled her eyes and dismissed her husband with a wave of her hand. "Oh, pay no attention to your grandfather, he's just grumpy because he's been smelling this cake all the way over here." She batted her eyelashes as she handed the cake to Deb. "I thought we could make the cream cheese frosting here? You know, a little girl bonding?" Before Deb could find the words to respond, she looked to Nathan. "What? No hug for your grandmother?"

Nathan leaned in as May spread her arms and gave her a leery hug. "Thanks for bringing the cake," he mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

"I_ told_ you he'd be happy!" May directed at Royal in a satisfied singsong voice.

"Well _of course_ he's going to say that," Royal retorted. "No boy in their right mind tells their grandmother he doesn't want her around on his birthday."

May pulled away from Nathan with a glare directed at Royal, but chose not to say anything else. Instead she motioned towards Brooke, who was still gawking from the front door. "Well?" she asked expectantly. "Is that a friend of yours, Nathan?"

"Yes, actually-"

"Well aren't you going to properly introduce us?" she pried. "It's a bit rude to just leave her standing there looking so bewildered."

Brooke gulped. _Oh_, she groaned inwardly, _this isn't going to be awkward at all!_


	44. Chapter Forty Four

**A/N: **I really wish the show would've brought May and Royal back. Like, oh, I don't know, for their son's funeral? For their grandson's (official) wedding? Or their grandson's graduation/their great grandson's & first granddaughter's birth? Given the way May acted in "A Crash Course In Polite Conversation," it just seems way too OOC for her to not want to be at all those things. (And Nathan seemed to have an alright relationship with May, so I don't see why he wouldn't want to invite her. Unless he didn't do it just because he didn't want Royal there, which seems kind of mean. But you think she would've at least just showed up on her own anyway.) But anyway, I hope you enjoy them in this story! (By the way, I don't know if any of you are Jamie and/or Jenny Jagielski fans, but I wrote a Jenny/Jamie fic called _If I Die Young_ in case anyone wants to check it out.)

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-Four**

"She's…my girlfriend."

Brooke sputtered, choking on her own tongue. The bulging look on her face mirrored Deb's. Her eyes bore into Nathan's from across the room. The word _what_ nearly heaved from her mouth, yet she held it back, knowing that he had to have some perfectly good explanation for making such an extravagant lie to his grandparents. _Right?_

Deb grasped her son's wrist, also holding back her own questions and instead forcing a smile. "Nathan?" she questioned through gritted teeth.

May shifted focus between her grandson and Brooke, appearing dazed. "Your girlfriend?" she repeated, her pale eyebrows arching. "I – we had no idea." Looking to her husband she remarked, "That's nice, isn't it, Royal?"

Royal gave Brooke a second look, inspecting her even more tediously than they had at the door. His Adam's apple jiggled against the tender skin of his throat and his eyes narrowed into small slits. "Did you knock 'er up?" he asked bluntly.

"Royal!" May snapped indignantly.

"Well don't pretend you couldn't see it, May!" Royal motioned his hand to the teenager in question. "That's not just a few extra pounds that that shirt is trying to cover up!"

"Yeah," Nathan barked, interrupting the lecture. "It's mine. I got Brooke pregnant, okay? Are you satisfied?"

Royal scowled. "What happened to the other one?" he questioned. "The blonde? Peyton? You didn't spill the family seed there too like your old man, did you?"

"Royal! Stop it! Enough!" May shouted, her cheeks literally vibrating with fury. "The boy doesn't need a lecture right now!"

"The hell he doesn't! Didn't he learn anything from his father?"

May pressed her hands to her hips, shooting him a daring look. "You mean like Danny never learned from you?"

"_May…"_ Royal warned, the name sounding more like a hiss from a snake than from the lips of a human being.

Immediately, the tension piqued Nathan's interest and his eyes darted towards his grandmother. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Yes, Royal, why don't you tell him?"

"Tell me what?"

"It's none of his business, May-"

"Oh, don't you give me that line!" she scolded. "If you'd been honest with Danny from the beginning then maybe-"

"We wouldn't have L-" Royal's voice wavered and he broke eye contact with his wife. "We wouldn't be grandparents right now!"

"And I'm not saying I regret being a grandparent, either, so don't you dare throw that back in my face!" She motioned towards Brooke. "But we also wouldn't be expecting a great grandchild right now either. And unless you want to be great-great grandparents in another sixteen years, maybe you should finally start talking!"

"It's in the past, May! That's where it should stay!"

"What," Deb interjected solemnly, "is in the past?"

"You stay out of this, Deborah."

"No!" May raised her index finger. "No. I won't stand for this anymore. If you won't tell them, then I will."

"May!"

"When Royal was-"

"I don't have to stand for this!" he snarled, his face taking on the color of a stop sign. The commotion of his feet against the floor sounded like thunder during a hurricane as he charged out of the house, rattling the entire wall as he slammed the door behind him.

"When he was what?" Nathan persisted.

"Nathan," Brooke whispered calmly. "If your grandfather doesn't want you to know, maybe-"

"No, Brooke. No offense, but you don't know him like I do. You've met my father, you've seen his ego. Imagine where he gets it from. All my life, I've had two generations of that weighing on my shoulders. And now I'm getting told that he might not be as high and mighty as I've always been told?" The basketball star shook his head. "I want to hear this. Grandma, please."

May pressed her hand to the back of the couch, steadying herself. "Nathan, I'm not trying to defame your grandfather, I just think he has a secret that you should know. That _your father_ should've known. Maybe it would've made you more careful."

Brooke placed a tentative hand onto May's shoulder. "Take your time, Mrs. Scott."

"May, dear." The elder blonde arched her opposite hand around herself to pat Brooke's. "The thing is," she began, looking to her grandson, "your father's not the first to be in this type of situation, Nathan. When your grandfather and I were in high school, before we started dating, his first sweetheart was my best friend, Zoë. She was a really bright, bubbly thing, with Audrey Hepburn hair and a larger-than-life persona to match."

Nathan shook his head. "I can't imagine him with anyone other than you," he replied, still attempting to process the information.

"It how we met, actually. Not that we were anything more than friends at that time, though: she was the sun that he revolved around. You know how every school has that one power couple, don't you? Well, Royal and Zoë were _It_. I'm sure he thought he was going to marry her one day, I know I did."

"But?" Deb asked cautiously.

May touched her hand to her heart. "But during our junior year, Zoë told him she was pregnant."

Nathan looked to his mother with an estranged expression. "All my life-"

"He wanted to keep the baby," May interrupted. "He told Zoë he'd stand by her and help to raise it, but he wanted to keep it, whether or not that meant them both giving up their futures. He was ready to marry her right then and there; he was willing to give up everything for her."

"But she got an abortion?" Brooke asked.

May shook her head. "She wanted to, she was set on it, no matter what Royal had to say about it. If she hadn't needed the money for the operation, I don't think she ever would've even told him," she explained, shaking her head. "But as it turns out, it was a false alarm. She ended up getting her period a few days after she broke the news to him, but the damage was already done. He couldn't continue to be with her, knowing that if she had been pregnant, she would've just disposed of that life, without even giving him a say in the matter."

"Is that how you got together?" Brooke wondered.

May nodded. "Somewhat. I felt for Royal, I didn't think the choice Zoë made to disregard his opinion was the right one. Our friendship dissolved about the same time as their relationship, which brought Royal and I closer together. We became much closer friends at the end of that year and throughout our senior year. But it wasn't until the summer after graduation that he officially asked me out for the first time…it took a very long time for him to nurse that broken heart. And I think it made him cold in many ways. He didn't always used to be that leather hearted man you saw blow out that door."

Brooke touched her hand to her belly, recalling the day she'd spent at the clinic that had ultimately made her realize she couldn't go through with the abortion. A twang of guilt burst in her gut as she thought about how she, like Zoë, also had been set on an abortion, without the intention of ever telling Nathan, probably because unlike Zoë, she'd had the financial means at the time do make the choice by herself.

"Don't misunderstand, Nathan: I love you with my whole heart and I don't regret a day I've spent with you. And I'm sure that one day – if you are choosing to raise that baby – you'll find yourself feeling the same way. But in the same token, being a teenager is hard enough as it is. You have so many hopes and dreams and ambitions at this time in your life! You should be able to celebrate your sixteenth birthday carefree, not worrying about the next eighteen years. And I just feel that if – if Royal had told Danny that at your age, maybe he wouldn't have been so reckless." She looked sympathetically to Deb. "Not that-"

Deb raised her hand in a silencing manner. "I understand, May. No offense taken. In fact, I agree. That's what I've been trying to tell Nathan myself. I never wanted him to have to be a teen parent and endure what I had to endure…and he's even younger than I was." She shook her head. "But at the same time, a child is always a blessing, and the actions of its parents are not its fault and therefore a baby should never be blamed for its existence. It is what it is." Deb slid her hand down Nathan's wrist and entwined her fingers with her son's. "I wish I would've known this sixteen years ago. It might've taken some of the pressure off. But any earlier and I might've been more cautious with Dan…and for that, I'm glad I didn't know."

"I understand," May smiled. "One thing I've never been able to comprehend – which is something I now struggle to understand with you as well, Nathan – is what you missed the first time. With Danny and Karen, I get it…Danny didn't have any example, because Royal never warned him. And Deb, you didn't yet know about Karen when you got pregnant, but for the life of me, I can't understand how Danny could've made the same…"

"Mistake?"

"Poor judgment," May corrected. "_Twice._ And then you, Nathan, knowing full well your father's history…"

Brooke crossed the room to Nathan's side. "Nathan," she spoke, shaking her head. "This isn't right. And you know it. Look where lying has got us so far. Look what it did to your grandfather. Come on," she choked. "For once, let's be honest here."

Nathan wiped his forehead and then cupped his chin with his fingers, sighing heavily. "Grandma…Brooke's not my girlfriend."

"What? But-"

"I lied," he whispered, his voice saturated in shame. "I lied because I didn't want you – and especially Grandpa – to look down on me, and Brooke, anymore than you already do."

"Nathan!" May gasped. "I never look down upon you! I love you!"

"I know you do, but…I didn't want to disappoint you. And you know how Grandpa is." He allowed his shoulders to relax. "I'd been with Peyton," he explained in a whisper. "She broke up with me several months ago at a party I threw and I was drunk and careless and then I ran into Brooke and we-"

"We had sex," Brooke replied bluntly. Even as the embarrassment flooded her face, she knew it was the only right thing to do. "And that's how we ended up where we are today. It wasn't that Nathan was careless – at least, not in the way you seem to think he was – we just weren't in our right minds then. We were, well, we were both drunk…so we didn't even think about using any kind of protection that night. And as for me, I was on birth control, but-"

"That doesn't always work," Deb agreed.

"I don't know about Nathan's dad," Brooke continued, "but in our case it was plain and simple inebriation that got us here. And a lack of care about the feelings of the other people involved, namely Peyton, which – as her former best friend – I regret with all my heart. And this web of lies we wound to keep our secret, and keep from hurting anyone, so I kept telling myself, only ended up hurting people more than ever in the end."

May nodded quietly, drinking in the situation and the sudden outpouring of honesty. The corners of her lips fluttered, then she dipped her head. "Thank you for telling me the truth. Obviously this can't be an easy thing for either of you to admit, but I believe the ability to admit it shows how far you've come since that night. I trust that one day, as hard as it will be, you'll tell this story to your daughter or son, to keep him or her from repeating your mistakes."

Brooke rubbed her stomach. "If I've learned anything in the last hour, it's that there's no question that's what we need to do," she agreed.

May shuffled across the room and wrapped her arms around her grandson. "As tough as this pill is to swallow, I believe you'll be a better man for it. I think you already are." Next, she turned to Brooke and carefully pushed the brunette's hair behind her shoulder. "I can see why he was attracted to you," she nodded with a tiny grin. "I can already tell you'll make a beautiful baby." Raising her hand she asked, "May I?"

Brooke lifted her shirt, revealing the taut skin around her bulging belly. "Sure." As May placed her hand to her stomach, the ex-cheerleader couldn't help but note how the skin of May's hand felt soft, like the top of an uncut pumpkin pie, cooled yet sill radiating the perfect amount of oven warmth.

"Oh." May purred, with a twinkle in her eye. "I know what this one's going to be."

The corners of Brooke's mouth tugged up. "What?"

May wagged her finger. "You'll find out soon enough," she chuckled. Prompted by the sudden growl of Brooke's stomach, she pulled down the teen's shirt and announced, "Looks like we better plumpen you up!"

Brooke snorted. "Aren't I fat enough already?"

Deb shook her head. "If that baby's anything like Nathan, that's _nothing_," she warned.

"Scott genes produce big children. It's all that basketball muscle. Make sure to do your prenatal warm-ups, you're going to need it!" With that, she snapped her fingers. "Come along, then. Deb, Nathan, why don't you go set up the dining room? Brooke and I will work on that cake, if you don't mind," she said, shooting a look at her daughter-in-law. "I'd like to get to know the mother of my great grandchild a little better."

Deb motioned her hand. "Of course not." She nudged her son good naturedly. "Come on, we'll break out the special plates."

"Be nice, Grandma," Nathan warned. To Brooke he added, "Don't let her scare you off."

Brooke snickered. "Oh, I think we'll be fine," she winked, patting her belly. "And besides, that cream cheese frosting has been tempting my stomach ever since you mentioned it earlier. Perfect timing!"

"Spit spot, then!" May chirped, snapping her fingers until Deb and Nathan scurried out of the room, then she wrapped her arm around Brooke's shoulders and ushered her towards the kitchen.


	45. Chapter Forty Five

**A/N: **Sorry about the wait, but this chapter is longer than normal, so I think you all will like it. And **kaysha14**, you read my mind…

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-Five**

"This is incredible, May!" Deb gushed, as she sliced up the breaded chicken on her plate and swirled it in the white gravy on the corner of her plate.

"And it isn't even that expensive," May announced proudly. "Just throw a handful of things in the cart and take it home to the frozen chicken breast and mixed veggies in the freezer and _viola!_"

"I wish I could cook like this," Brooke oogled. "It's amazing!" She shoveled a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy into her mouth and moved her hand to cover her mouth as she licked her gravy slicked lips.

"Oh, don't give me too much credit," May shook her head. "I learned from my father. He spent his college years down in Oklahoma with his grandmother, who could've opened up her own restaurant as I understand…if women had had such an opportunity back in those days."

Brooke salted her mashed potatoes. "Maybe one day you could help teach our baby those things?"

May smiled over the edge of her wine glass as she sipped her White Zinfandel. "I'd love to," she obliged. Glancing down the dining room table, she noticed that the three plates besides her own were nearly empty. "Seconds?"

Nathan patted his stomach. "Not unless we want to save your red velvet cake for breakfast tomorrow." Shaking his head at Brooke he remarked, "You haven't lived until you've tried some of this."

"Your grandma was letting me taste the frosting as she was showing me her secret recipe," she smirked. "If the cake is even a fraction as good as the frosting, I'm gonna be in a sugar coma for months!"

"And they say flattery gets you nowhere! I like this one, Nathan," May joked. She pushed her seat back and began to make her way around the table, collecting everyone's plates.

"You don't have to do that, let me," Deb intervened, stopping her mother-in-law as she reached her. "Why don't you go get the cake, I'll take care of these?" She snatched up the plates and dirty silverware from May's hands and continued, picking up Nathan's and Brooke's plates.

"Be right back. Don't go anywhere now!" May disappeared with Deb into the kitchen, leaving Brooke and Nathan side by side at the table.

Brooke propped her elbow up on the table and turned her head to Nathan. "I like your grandma!"

"She's alright," he agreed with a nod. "I'm surprised she's taking everything so well."

"Just be grateful that she is. It's not like we don't have enough rotten karma surrounding us already." Her face suddenly lit up and she began to giggle.

"What?"

Brooke shook her head. "The baby's just moving around in there, that's all."

The color drained from Nathan's face. "It's kicking?"

"Yeah, it's-" Her breath hitched, realizing that Nathan hadn't experienced the baby move yet. Without preemption, she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly.

A childlike wonder settled in Nathan's eyes as he felt the movement of his unborn child beneath Brooke's bare belly. He massaged his fingertips, which seemed to excite more movement from the womb. Goose bumps charged up the length of his spine and he seemed at a loss for words, entranced by the moment.

"Nathan!"

Nathan shook his head, his reverie broken by Brooke's voice. "Yeah?"

"The doorbell's ringing."

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from Brooke's warm tummy and stood up. "I'll get it, you wait here."

Once he'd left, Brooke placed her hand over the spot Nathan's had vacated. She smiled down at her belly, kissed her fingers, and pressed the kiss to her skin. "That was daddy," she smiled. "Did you know that? I wish you could've seen the look on his face while you were moving around in there, baby. It was even more incredible than your great grandma's cookin'!" Hearing the sound of footsteps, she looked up to see Deb and May return to the dining room, the latter holding a cake with sixteen burning candles in her hands.

"Where's Nathan?" Deb questioned confusedly.

"He went to answer-" She stopped short as she saw Nathan enter the room, the previous amazement on his face replaced by frustration and anger. "Nate, what's-" Again, she lost her words as Royal entered in behind Nathan, looking blank as a stone.

The celebration was vacuumed out of the room in one fail swoop as everyone's eyes, except Nathan's, fell solemnly on Royal. Nathan moved to Brooke's side and placed his hand on his shoulder, while husband and wife held each other's gaze from across the length of the dining room table.

"I need to talk to my wife," Royal intoned. _"Alone."_

Brooke stood from her chair and nodded dutifully. "C'mon, Nate, we can go wait out-"

"No. We'll go."

"Nathan-"

"We'll _go_." He repeated. "I guess we'll have to save your cake from tomorrow after all, Grandma." He slipped his hand around Brooke's waist and ushered her out of the terse dining room.

"We're just going to leave your mom in there?" she asked as they got to the front door.

"She'll be fine."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know yet." He grabbed his letterman jacket from the back of the chair, slid it on, and fingered the keys inside the pocket as they walked out the door. "We'll just drive."

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Brooke inquired timidly.

"Dunno." Nathan held the passenger door open for Brooke. "This is pretty big. I have no idea what to expect." After he began driving, he would sneak a peek at Brooke every now and then, who was staring straight ahead and absent wringing her hands together in her lap. "So what do you think…" he mused. "…about names?"

Brooke lifted her head curiously. "I, uh, hadn't really given it much thought."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "You've got to be lying. Don't all girls think about what they're going to name their kids? Or, at least, didn't you?"

Brooke placed her arm on the armrest and traced the freckles on her arm with her painted fingernail as though it were a connect-the-dot game. "Well, maybe," she shrugged. "It's just, before now, I never really saw myself with kids. And now that I do, I honestly have no idea."

"What's your favorite name?"

"I don't have one, actually."

"How about people important to you? Anyone that you'd want to use as a namesake?"

Again, the former cheerleader shook her head. "It's not like I'd curse this kid with my parents'," she formed air quotes with her fingers, "names. And really the only person I've been really close to since then is Peyton, which would be a little awkward, don't you think?" she asked sarcastically.

"Oh."

"How about you? Do you have any ideas? Suggestions?"

Nathan shrugged. "Not really."

"Where did your name come from?"

"Ha!" Nathan grunted and pinched his thumb and index finger together. "I came _this_ close to being a 'Wilton' instead a 'Nathan,'" he explained, to which Brooke visibly cringed. "Yeah, I know. My dad loved Wilt Chamberlain and wanted to name me after him because he was such a huge NBA star, but my mom absolutely despised the name. So she suggested 'Nate' after Nathaniel Thurmond – they called him 'Nate the Great' – and at some point, they came to an agreement on 'Nathan.' My dad did get his mark in there with 'Royal' though. Did I ever tell you that my middle name is after my grandfather?"

"Nope. But that's good to know."

"You wanna go to the bookstore? Get a baby name book?"

Brooke dug into her pocket, pulling out two crumpled dollars. "I doubt this will cover it."

"Don't worry about it, I'll buy."

"If you want to," Brooke shrugged.

"Do you at least know what last name you want to give it?" he edged.

Brooke ran her fingers through her hair. "'Scott,' I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well I'm all for women who want to honor their last names by passing them onto their kids, but 'Davis' has never really done anything for me. And anyway, I just associate it with my bastard parents, who I really don't ever want my kid to have to meet. So 'Davis' or any hyphenation thereof seems more of an insult than anything else."

"So even after knowing my dad and grandfather and the kind of people they are, you still want to go with 'Scott'?"

"Your mom and grandma are Scotts too, albeit by marriage, and they've been pretty good to me," she pointed out. "And besides, like your grandma said, maybe your grandfather isn't as bad as he seems? That Zoë, whoever she is, sounds like she did a number on him. Maybe if he'd found your grandma first, he'd be…softer somehow."

Nathan shrugged. "Okay," he agreed. "'Scott' then." A little smile pierced his lips as they rolled into the mall parking lot. "What do you think it'll be?"

"I have no idea, really. Just after all these problems I've had so far, I'll be ecstatic if he or she is healthy."

"Are you scared?"

"About being a parent?"

"About giving birth."

"Out of my mind!" She blew an elongated breath between the slit of her lips. "At the thought of pushing a watermelon through a hole the size of a grape, who wouldn't be? To be honest, I wish there was some way I could be unconscious for the whole thing and just wake up to find a little face staring back at me."

"What kind of delivery to you think you're going to want?" he asked, while opening the car door for her.

"There are different kinds?"

"Well, yeah, but I was actually asking more about…like, who are you going to want to be there with you?"

"I – hadn't really thought about it. I just kind of figured…well, Peyton, but that's not going to happen now, obviously."

Nathan nodded a bit. "Yeah." He cleared his throat in the midst of the awkward silence and focused on parking the car.

"I do know I don't want anything too common," she spoke up.

"Like what?"

Brooke scrunched up her face as though she'd just drunk a gallon of straight lemon juice. "'John' or 'Sarah.' Those are the most annoying names! Not that I have anything against people with those names, but every time I hear them, I just cringe, because it's like, well, why can't you be more original with your kids names, right? There are so many Sarahs and Johns and Marys and Williams or whatever in the world and I just think kids need to be individuals. And that doesn't mean stupid spellings, like 'S-a-r-u-h,' but something legitimately _unique_."

"I'm not surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that nothing with Miss Brooke Penelope Davis is ever that lowly 'common.' You have to flare up everything you do."

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Yeah, even getting pregnant. Total flare of getting knocked up by the most popular guy in high school." On their way to the book store, her stomach made a loud rumbling at the wafting of the Cinnabon. She wrapped her arms around herself to stifle the noise as they entered the book store.

"Where do you think they'd be?"

"Do I look like a regular?"

"Okay, you take that side, I'll take this one."

Brooke shook her head as he wandered off. Touching her stomach she remarked, "If you're a boy, here's a tip: it's okay to ask for directions. Watch Mommy." She made her way to the counter, but had to wait at the end of the line, three customers long. Still on display, as it had been the night Peyton had not picked her up, was _The Da Vinci Code_. She wrapped her fingers around the book to lift it from its seat on the shelf and neatly pulled back the cover.

Mystery novels – novels in general, actually – had never been her thing. She was more into fashion magazine subscriptions, but it seemed that the publicity for the book was _everywhere_, and therefore hard not to notice. Especially when one was stuck in a book store all evening waiting on a ride. Not to mention it was apparently controversial too, something which Brooke could easily identify with.

So novel or not, she turned to the first page. Or what she thought was the first page. Her eyes glazed over the opening facts, then skipped to the prologue, where they shifted slowly from word to word as the images began to materialize in her mind's eye. Despite having no idea what a Caravaggio was, she could identify with the urgency and fear that Jacques projected from the page._ Or maybe I'm the one projecting?_ Her fingertips pinched the corner of the page as her eyes flicked faster, like the ribbon of a typewriter. By the top of the fifth page, her stomach gurgled in disgust of the idea of a man's stomach acids seeping into his chest, and she no longer craved the Cinnabon she'd sensed on her way in.

"Found it!" Nathan's voice interrupted, halfway through the page.

"A huh," Brooke murmured, her mouth opened and her eyes glued to the page. It was only when a round, wet drop of saliva fell onto the word_ precautions_ did she realize she was far too caught up in the storyline, so much so that she was drooling and didn't even know it. Quickly, she wiped the page with her sleeve, then moved the back of her hand to her mouth and slapped the book closed, hoping nobody had noticed her zombie trance.

"Good book?"

"Uh, well, I don't know I-"

"Was literally drooling over it?" he supplied, unhelpfully.

Brooke shoved him. "I was not!"

"I saw it!"

"You saw nothing!" She dropped the book back onto the shelf and snatched up the baby book from his hands, opening it to a random page in the middle. "Oh look!" she cried, attempting to change the subject. "What do you think of 'Maya'? We could name her after your grandmother."

Nathan swiftly snatched the book back and flicked his thumb across a wad of pages, before drawing his index finger down the selected page. "'Gina'?" he countered. "It's Italian for 'queen,' short for 'Regina.'"

"I'm not naming her after who starred in _Tootsie_ and _Stuart Little_!"

"Those aren't even the same spellings."

Brooke frowned. "I wasn't even expecting you to get those references."

"Thanks for having so much faith in me."

Nathan pulled out a credit card as they got to the front of the line and dropped the book onto the table, then he reached behind Brooke and grabbed The Da Vinci Code at the last moment. "This too."

"Nathan!"

"Sorry!" he smirked, pushing it out of Brooke's reach. "I want to know what's in there that's so _salivating_."

Brooke pushed her chin to her chest, hiding her red face as the cashier rung up the purchase. As soon as the latter handed him the receipt, she grabbed the bag and elbowed him in the gut as they left. "You're dead!"

Rubbing his wound he asked, "Can I buy some time with a Cinnabon?"

She had every mind to tell him no, but her stomach betrayed her with a growl so disturbing it could've been used as an alien sound effect on _Doctor Who_. "Okay, fine!" she sneered as they came upon the establishment of her favorite pregnancy craving. "But there's no telling how long it'll keep you safe. Might be a few days, might be 'til just after I'm done eating."

Nathan chuckled as he fingered his credit card again. "No worries, it'll give me just enough time to think of something." He ordered the treat under Brooke's watchful eyes and swiped his card again, preparing for another quip when Brooke suddenly excused herself for the restroom. Shrugging, he slid into a vacant table in front of the Cinnabon to wait and decided to thumb through the baby book to pass the time.

_Bonnie._

_Chandra._

_Christian._

_Cody._

_Lance._

_Lonnie._

_Marylou._

_Sophia._

"Who knew picking a name was so hard?" He closed the book. "It only defines you for the rest of your life, no pressure there."

"Sir? Your order's ready."

"Thanks," Nathan replied as he took the desert from the teenager behind the counter. He sat it down on Brooke's side of the table and considered the possibility of stealing a lick of two or frosting, but when he saw Brooke heading his way, he decided against it.

"Thanks!"

"What's up?"

"What do you mean what's up?"

"You have, I don't know, a_ look_ on your face."

"I don't have a look."

"Don't tell me you don't have a look when you do. I'm looking at it right now."

Brooke held up her hand and placed it over his eyes. "Then stop looking."

"Brooke!" He lifted his hand to push hers away, but she held it strictly in place.

"No, seriously, close your eyes!"

Nathan grunted and allowed his hands to drop back to the table. His nose wiggled. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. When he left her hand leave his eyes, he kept them closed.

"You can open them now."

Nathan did so slowly, squinting at first, then opening one eye, followed by the other. The first thing he noticed was Brooke's face bathed in a golden honeysuckle glow. His eyes followed the source of the light down to the Cinnabon container that now sat right in the middle of the table, with a single red candle punched through the frosting, which was casting the stunning flame.

"Happy Birthday."

"You didn't really go to the bathroom."

"Yeah, well, I learned that from you." She smirked.

"You didn't have to do this, Brooke."

"But I wanted to. It took my last crumpled dollars, but I wanted to. Because you deserve a good birthday. I know it's not your grandma's red velvet cake, but I didn't quite have enough for a cupcake and a candle, so…"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She cast her eyes down to the candle. "Aren't you going to make a wish?"

Nathan angled his head so he could watch the reflection of the flame in her eyes, then closed his own and blew a breath from the bottom of his lungs. When he opened them again, her face was vaguely masked behind a sheer curtain of curling smoke.

"What'd you wish for?"

"If I tell you-"

Without thinking, Brooke pushed her face through the smoky haze and emblazoned his lips. She could smell the remnants of the candle smoke as she inhaled, determined not to break their embrace, and was only shocked when she felt Nathan's lips moving back against her own. Surprised, her lips burned, followed by a hot numbness. _"I'm sorry,"_ she smoldered against his mouth, before pulling back, her face a neon glow.

"No." He grabbed her wrists, pinning her hands to the table. "That's what I wished for."


	46. Chapter Forty Six

**A/N: **I am floored! Eleven reviews on the last chapter! So as a big thank you, I'm giving you a very fast update!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-Six**

"_Ungh!"_ Nathan opened his eyes to his arm lying across his face. It was heavy as though full of liquid lead and he couldn't feel it, other than the dead weight of it pressing against the cartilage of his nose. Using his right arm, he pushed it out of the way and squinted against the sudden sunlight passing through the front window shield. It was almost a familiar scene, like waking up from a hangover, only his head didn't ache and he remembered – most vividly – everything that had happened the night before.

"Hey, sleepy head."

Nathan turned his head to see Brooke sitting up in the passenger seat, with her bare feet propped up on his dash, and her face poking up over the cover of _The Da Vinci Code_. "What time is it?"

"A little past eight."

The first tingles of circulating blood in his dead arm made themselves known and Nathan grimaced, trying to hold extra still in preparation for the awful pins and needles he knew was coming. "How long have you been up?"

"Couple hours," she replied, turning the page. "You looked so peaceful there, all bunched up in the seat…I didn't want to wake you."

"Has anyone seen us?"

"If they have, nobody's come out."

"Where do you think my mom is?"

Brooke shrugged. "Maybe she went to the beach house since Dan's not there?"

Nathan nodded. The fibers in his arm were coming to life, crackling as if red coals were being fanned beneath the skin. "Do you think we should wait for her or just go in?"

"Your call."

He reached for the lever on the seat, jerking him into an upright position. _Bad idea!_ He realized, after his arm became engulfed in the flames of circulation. Nathan began to rub his fingers against it, attempting to help the blood inside and reduce the agony.

"Sleepy arm?" the ex-cheerleader asked knowingly. She closed her book and pulled her legs down, filling the spot they just vacated with the Dan Brown novel. "Give 'er here," she replied, wiggling her fingers in a beckoning manner.

Nathan hissed as he lifted his arm and attempted to move it closer to Brooke. "I hate _sleeping_ in the car."

Brooke applied her fingers to his arm and began to work them smoothly through the fabric of his shirt. She chuckled a couple times at the foul looks on his face, then rolled back his sleeve to get to the actual skin, using her long nails to occasionally scratch and prick his flesh. "It's odd, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Waking up in the _front _seat for once."

"And being able to legitimately say we _slept _together."

"Nobody'd believe us though."

"Which brings up something I'd like to talk about," Nathan spoke cautiously. "What are we doing here?"

"Waiting to see if it's safe to go inside?"

"No. I mean, what are we _doing_? Together. After last night, after-"

"I kissed you."

"And I kissed you back."

"Oh," she murmured. "_That._ Well…" She readjusted her position in the passenger seat. "Did you really mean it when you said what you said last night?"

"How can you even ask that?"

"It was an emotional day. Your birthday, your grandparents, me, the baby…did you really mean it? Or were you just caught up in the moment?"

Nathan noticed that the pins and needles feeling had vanished from his arm, but Brooke was still kneading it anyway. He chose not to say anything about it. "I meant it. I still mean it."

Brooke nodded, processing the information. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"I want a serious answer though."

"Okay."

"Honestly, Nathan: is it because of the baby?"

Nathan felt his jaw unhinge. "No!"

"Don't yell at me!" she scolded, pulling her hands back. "It's a valid question. Look at the timing! You break up with Peyton and twenty-four hours later-"

Nathan leaned over the gear shift to bridge the space between them. He laid his hand on the side of her face. "It's not because of Peyton." He forced her to look into his eyes. "Look at me! Do you_ see_ me, Brooke Davis? I wish you could look through my eyes right now, because then you wouldn't be asking these things. It's not because of Peyton. And it's certainly not because of the baby."

"We've been through a lot in these past months. I don't want to rush into anything," she spoke, attempting to hold onto her reserve.

"Is that a no?"

"No." Responding to the distraught look on his face she shook her head. "No, it's not a 'no.' It's – it's a – it's a, 'I don't want to get hurt…again.'"

"And I don't want to hurt you. Nor do I want to see anyone else hurt you either. I want to protect you. And our baby."

Brooke leaned her head forward, allowing it to bump and rest against Nathan's. "I've been with a lot of guys, Nate."

"And I've been with a lot of girls. But that's not who I am anymore and that's not who you are either. We're changing, Brooke. And I think we have each other to thank for that. The things that have happened with you have made me reevaluate myself; they've made me dig inside myself and pull out things that I'd forgotten about. I don't want to put them back. I want to embrace them…and I want to embrace them with you."

"Are you? Are you _really_ ready to be seen out in public with me like that? I know it's going to come out, maybe it already has, but you don't have to attach yourself to my side if you don't want to. And come September, are you really going to be ready to walk through those double doors with me?"

"Yes."

"Even when I look like a sperm whale?"

He hooked his hands beneath her arms and tugged her off the seat until she willingly crawled over the gear shift and took a seat in Nathan's lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and connected them around her swelling belly. "You can look like Jupiter for all I care. It won't change anything."

"I never knew Nathan Scott could be such a softie," she joked.

"Well you didn't think Peyton got with me just because of my looks, did you?" He suddenly shook his head. "Sorry, bad joke-"

"No, it's okay. It's true. That's not how Peyton is. It never made sense for someone like her to date someone like you or be best friends with someone like me. Obviously there was something there, something she saw that we didn't."

Nathan slid his hand down to grasp the lever on the seat, causing it to recline quickly so Brooke would be forced to land on top of Nathan's chest. He smiled up at her as she laughed, a symphony to his ears. "Let's not talk about Peyton," he suggested.

"You brought her up."

"And now I'm bringing up that thing you're avoiding: us."

Brooke pressed her hands to Nathan's chest, palms down. She rolled to the side a bit, allowing her tummy to stick out in a comfortable position. "I never thought you'd say yes," she admitted a touch shamefully.

"What are you talking about?"

"The night we had sex. After you said she had broken up with you and you were just staring at me…the only reason I asked if you wanted to have sex was because I never thought you'd actually say yes."

"Are you saying you never wanted to have sex with me?"

"I'm saying I never thought it would happen; that I didn't think it was possible for it to happen. But I _definitely _wanted to have sex with you. I've always been attracted to you." She rolled her eyes. "The whole school's been attracted to you," she added as an afterthought.

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Don't I know enough of those?"

"What's one more?"

"Alright then, if you're going to be so persistent about it."

Nathan pressed his hands to the curves of her body, gliding them down her torso to her hips, where he rested them. "I've always been attracted to you too."

"You have not!"

"You can't deny that you're attractive," he countered.

"I've put a lot of work into it, but that's not the point. Don't say things just because they sound good."

"I'm saying it because it's the truth: I've always been attracted to you. I'm not saying I've had feelings for you all this time, that would be a little cheesy, but sexually attracted, yes. And if you'd ever offered earlier, I'm sure I would've taken you up on that offer then."

"Even if you'd been with She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned?"

"I was a jerk," he admitted. "And I probably would have. Drunk or not."

"Cheesy or not," she whispered, "she's always had everything I've ever wanted: caring parents, artistic talent, smarts, beauty, integrity...you. The only thing I've had over her is the unlimited credit card."

"That's not true. You're beautiful and talented and brilliant in different ways than she is. And anyway, you can't dwell on that because it was then and now you're the one who has me. I hope."

"So we're going to make this work?"

"For better or worse."

"You're not proposing, right?"

"I'm proposing that you answer the question I asked you last night."

Brooke kissed him quickly. "Does that answer your question?"

"I want to hear it from your lips."

"I thought actions were supposed to speak louder than words?"

"It's what we haven't been saying that's been our problem all along, isn't that what you were telling me in front of my grandmother yesterday?"

Brooke grazed her fingers through his short brown hair, examining the colors of his eyes as she pondered over his statement: she couldn't argue with it. "Okay," she breathed. "Yes. The answer to your question is yes." Suddenly tilted her head to look out the window.

"Something wrong?"

"Just checking to see if your mom's here," she laughed. "She always seems to show up at the wrong time."

"Do you see her?"

"No."

"Good." He flicked the lever again, pushing them upright in the seat, then allowed his hands to round Brooke's hips to her vivacious bum and gave it a playful little squeeze. As Brooke gave a shrill cry of amusement, he muffled her mouth with his and felt her relax into his needy insistence. The kiss was sweet and sticky, like licking a caramel apple in the middle of summer, and only ended too soon when Brooke leaned backwards and Nathan with her, right into the horn on the steering wheel.

Brooke shot up, banging her head against the roof of the car and whimpering in response to the shriek of the horn. "Stop laughing at me!" She swatted him and rubbed her sore head pitifully.

"Well if that didn't wake anyone inside up, I don't know what will." He pushed open the car door and allowed Brooke to get out, then slipped out behind her. Before shutting it, he leaned over her head and gave her bruise a quick kiss.

"Lips First-Aid?"

"Did it help?"

"Maybe." She bounced up and down on the driveway, her warm bare soles absorbing the frigidness of the cement. "Maybe it'll help more if you keep applying First-Aid."

"Maybe I will," he winked as they rounded the vehicle and he pulled Brooke's shoes out of the passenger side for her.

"Thanks." She slid them on, then bent down to catch her reflection in the side mirror. Standing back up, she attempted to smooth her clothes and then tossed her head forward so her hair splayed forward through the hair and then snapped back.

"What does that do?"

"Fluffs up your hair," she explained while running her fingers through it, trying to give it an even part even though she couldn't see it, then bounced it around her shoulders. "Ready to go in? I'm freezing! And starving. And I want to have some of that cake!"

Nathan reached for his house key as they approached the front door, only to realize he wasn't wearing his letterman's jacket. He glanced at Brooke and curled his arm around her waist, sliding it into the far pocket of the jacket she wore.

Brooke giggled and nestled into the crook of his arm. "Nathan!"

He drew the key and waved it at her. "Sorry, that – for once – wasn't a come on." Sticking it into the lock, he heard it groan and click, before the door cracked open. Taking Brooke's hand in his, they stepped across the threshold. It was silent, compared to the music of the morning birds outside. "Grandma?"

"Mr. Scott?" Brooke called softly.

Nathan pushed the door closed with the edge of his foot, then led Brooke towards the bedrooms. "My grandparents always stay in the same guest bedroom."

Brooke bounced a little as she walked. "Do you think I could detour to the bathroom before we find them?" she asked meekly. "My bladder might burst if I hold out any longer. Like I said, I didn't wanna wake you but-"

"Go." He released her hand and watched as she slipped into the bathroom, then made his way to the guest room his grandparents usually stayed in. He was surprised to find it open and uninhabited, yet their luggage neatly lined against the wall made it clear they hadn't left. Nathan scratched his head and turned back the way he'd come. "Grandma?" he called again, his voice echoing into the vastness of the home.

The pipes creaked as the toilet flushed, followed by the sounds of the sink from the bathroom, then Brooke emerged to meet Nathan. "Still M.I.A.?"

"Let's go check the living room."

Brooke shivered on their way there, caught by a cold draft of air that they realized had come from the front door, which they found Deb walking through on their way towards the living room. "Morning!" she squeaked.

"When did you get back?" The blonde asked, rubbing her cold hands together and blowing against them as she leaned against the door.

"Just a few minutes ago. Where've you been?"

"The beach house."

Brooke elbowed Nathan's arm, as if to say she told him so. "We were just looking for Mr. and Mrs. Scott."

"Tag along?" Nathan asked hopefully.

Deb shrugged. "I guess if it's volatile, you can just leave me hanging again," she replied, half jokingly.

"Told you we should've taken your mom with us," Brooke whispered.

When the three entered the living room, they all stopped abruptly at the sight of May and Royal on the couch. The muted television was casting a glow on their sleeping faces and a half eaten plate of the previous night's dinner, along with two empty wine glasses, were on the table in front of them. Royal had his head reclined into the back of the couch, in what one would think to be a highly uncomfortable position, and May had her head resting on her husband's chest, both sleeping soundly.

"I stand corrected about the horn," Nathan whispered.

"Looks like they worked out their differences," Brooke replied wistfully. She tugged on Nathan's hand. "Let them sleep." They were nearly out of the living room when they heard the faint rustle of fleece.

"Nathan?"

All three froze at the gruff sound of Royal's voice. The basketball star turned slowly, in time with Brooke and his mother, wedged between the two. "Grandpa?"

May's eyes fluttered open and she yawned before her bleary eyes settled on the three people watching her. As her vision settled, she pressed her hand to Royal's chest and pushed herself upright. "It's about time you three got home," she spoke unabashedly.

"We wanted to give you time to talk," Brooke spoke up for all three of them. "And we didn't want to wake up-"

"If you don't mind, Brooke, I'd like to talk to my grandson," Royal interrupted.

Brooke nodded and attempted to release Nathan's hand, only for Nathan to clutch it tighter. She looked questioningly to him, only to receive a shake of the head.

"Fine," Nathan agreed. "But before we do that, I want to say that I think we all got off onto the wrong foot yesterday. Yesterday, I introduced you to Brooke Davis. Today," he squeezed her hand even tighter, "I'd like to introduce you to my girlfriend."


	47. Chapter Forty Seven

**A/N: **Ah! You all are amazing! Thank you so much for the incredible reviews, you have no idea how inspired they make me! Now, I know this chapter is a bit of a strange one and a little shorter than usual (but it does come right on the heels of two extra long chapters, to be fair), but I feel that it's needed for the progression of the stories and the characters, so I hope you all don't mind.

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

Nathan resisted the urge to sing the Folgers theme song while inhaling the fumes from his grandfather's coffee mug. He needed a distraction though, as his stomach was in ship rope sized knots over having a one-on-one with the man who just yesterday he'd let down with the knowledge that he was going to be a great-grandfather before the age of sixty and then had again stirred the pot by introducing his girlfriend to him just fifteen minutes ago. Now they were out on the front porch, alone except for the wild birds, and he had no idea what to expect.

"You love this girl?"

_No preamble. I should've expected that._ He reared his head back to find his grandfather staring blankly at him, as if the question was the most natural and easy thing in the world to ask. "She's the mother of my child."

"That's not what I asked."

"She…" Nathan closed his eyes, envisioning Brooke's face and the gleam in her eyes. "She's the one I think about when I'm alone. And even when I'm not. She's the one I want to be with again. And again. And again. I've never had that with anyone else. Brooke's the one my dreams turn into."

Royal downed another swig of the molten brew. "Your grandmother told me what she told you."

"I'm sorry about Zoë."

"I thought I loved Zoë," he spoke, surprising his grandson with a foreign tenderness in his voice. "I would have given everything for her at one time. But she was a false sense of security; a false truth. I didn't know love until I got to know your grandmother. It snuck up on me like a bugler in the night. And after I realized the difference between infatuation and love, I was glad Zoë hadn't been pregnant. Basketball, scholarships, my future aside…I would've missed out on your grandmother. On Keith and your father. On you and…everything else."

"I get what you're trying to say, but Brooke isn't my Zoë. If anything, that was Peyton. Or more correctly, maybe I was her Zoë. I was with her out of convenience, out of familiarity, out of…some standard of cliché. If the truth hadn't come out the way it did, I'd probably still be with her and we'd both be living a lie, but she wouldn't have known it. Just like you wouldn't have known if Zoë had been pregnant and had been able to terminate the pregnancy without having to involve you."

"Believe it or not, I do love you, Nathan. I know talking about these things aren't easy for either of us, but I just don't want to see the wrong choice again."

"I know," the teen replied dutifully. Then the words sank into his brain, like an animal in a tar pit. "Wait," he paused, "'again'? What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying…" Vulnerability reflected in his eyes. "I-"

"This isn't just about me," Nathan realized slowly. "You're – you're talking about Dad." He stole a fleeting glance at the window, through which he could see his grandmother, mother, and girlfriend. "You've always been cold to her," he whispered, not taking his eyes off Deb. "You think he made the wrong choice when he picked Mom and me over Karen and Lucas."

Royal set his empty coffee mug on the windowsill and stepped into Nathan's line of vision. "This conversation stays between us," he said, repeating the words he'd used when they'd first stepped onto the porch.

"So I'm right?" he nodded.

"I've got nothin' against Deborah, she's tried to be the best she could in the situation she was put into. Many times, I think she's even been a better parent than your own father, which, as his father, isn't something I relish saying."

"I don't get it, all the time I was growing up, you've acted like he walks on water!"

"Lower your voice," Royal hissed, looking over his shoulder. Although he couldn't hear them, he could see the three women inside laughing. "I've made poor choices in life," he admitted. "So has Dan. I've tried to support my son. He managed to make a life for you and I tried to look beyond my own suspicions, hoping that I was as wrong about him as I was about Zoë."

"But you don't think you are? You still think he should've picked Karen?"

"Unlike you, I've seen Dan with Karen and with Deborah. It's not the same."

"What are you trying to say? That he loved Karen? Why didn't he stay with her then? All I've ever heard is how much he hates her; how much she ruined his life by not terminating her pregnancy when he asked her to; how Lucas should've been a bed stain on a night of poor judgment!"

In a flash, Royal had his grandson pressed against the side of the house, just out of view of the window. His dry hands nailed Nathan's shoulders to the wood and his eyes penetrated into the teenager's like sunlight through a magnifying glass. "You had better shut your mouth, boy!"

"You're one to talk!" Nathan snarled. "You've never even seen Lucas, have you? You never talk about him; you act just like Dan, as if he doesn't exist! So why are you defending him now? You're a hypocrite!"

Royal peeled back his palms from Nathan's shoulders. "I've never met him," he conceded. "But I've sent his mother money every month for the last sixteen years and three months, something your father should've been doing. She's sent me a school picture every year since Kindergarten."

Nathan felt his arms grow malleable, like unset jello. "Does Grandma know?"

"No. I have an account set aside for Lucas that she doesn't know about."

"Why?"

"We do things in our own way. I have my account, she's got Keith. She never talks to me about it, doesn't think I'd be receptive I guess, but I picked up the phone by accident one time and heard her asking about Luke. I'll never forget it: Keith was gushing like the proud father Dan never was."

Nathan stared at the porch floorboards. "Secrets apparently run in the genes, I guess." He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the wood. "Maybe you should tell Grandma? Come clean. Speaking as someone who's done it, it's freeing."

"After all this time?" Royal shook his head. "I'm not sure Karen would even want us to meet her son. Or that he'd want to meet us."

Nathan shrugged. "Just a suggestion."

Royal laughed, a dry, sarcastic sort of laugh, like the splintering of old, dry wood. "Of all the people I would've guessed might be the one to tell me that, I never would've guessed it to be you. You're a different kid, Nathan. You're becoming a man. And from one man to another, you have my respect."

Nathan studied Royal's offered hand. The moment was so surreal he almost wondered if he was being _Punk'd_. He finally decided to take it and although the fit was just fine, it felt unnatural, just as his grandfather's words about him being a man were alien in his ears. "You're the first person to ever tell me that."

"And as long as you keep this up, I doubt I'll be the last."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." He hooked the handle of his now cold coffee mug with his index finger and turned towards the door. "You ready for some of that birthday cake now?"

Nathan patted his stomach. "Like you have no idea!"

Royal twisted the door handle and let it swing open, immediately ceasing the giggles and laughter from inside the house. He stepped inside to find three pairs of eyes staring at him and he gave an obligatory nod to his wife. "Where's that cake?"

May held back a small smirk as her grandson stepped through the doorway. "I knew you boys could work things out!" She snapped her fingers twice. "And guess what."

Brooke ran to Nathan's side and looped her arm around his. Energy was practically oozing from her pores. "This way!" She slapped her hand over his eyes like the night before and led him blindly, with a chorus of footsteps behind them. "Ta-da!"

Nathan found himself in the dining room, with his birthday cake frosted and stationed on the table in front of him and each chair neatly plated. "No candles?"

"I figured we didn't need to waste the wax when you already got your wish," she beamed.

"How conservative of you."

"It's part of the new and improved me!" she quipped.

"You mean the old and recently rediscovered you?"

"However you want to look at it."

"Oh stop with the foreplay," May interjected while reaching into the pocket of her sweater. "Kiss the girl why don't you!"

Nathan and Brooke looked at each other, surprised by the sudden order that May had given them, but soon Brooke's face lit up and she extended her eyebrows welcomingly. With the look a good enough invitation for him, Nathan bowed in and took Brooke's willing lips. His girlfriend threw her arms around his neck and locked her wrists together, to which her boyfriend responded by picking her small frame up off the ground and spinning her around mid-kiss.

Delighted, May discretely withdrew a disposable camera from her pocket, pre-wound, and held it to her eye, locking the two teenagers in the frame of the view finder before pressing her finger down on the button. A bright flash filled the room, capturing – without a doubt – the happiest birthday moment May had ever witnessed.


	48. Chapter Forty Eight

**A/N: **For anyone who is still willing to read this fic, thank you so much!

_**All That She Wants**_

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

"I can't believe it's already been a week!" Deb said as May squeezed her in a hug.

"You know what they say about fun," May winked. She released her grip on her daughter-in-law and turned graciously to Brooke. "I'm going to miss you, dear."

Brooke bit her lip and swiftly enveloped the older woman in a scorching hug. "Are you sure you can't stay longer?" she begged.

"I'm afraid not," May laughed. "The dogs are only in the kennel until tomorrow and they're brutal with late fees."

Brooke put on her best pout. "But I'd really love it if you could come to the appointment!"

May patted Brooke's stomach encouragingly. "Now, now. I'm honored that you asked, truly I am, but finding out the sex of the baby is something that's for you and Nathan." She kissed the tip of her fingers and pressed the kiss to Brooke's belly. "That's why the first available appointment was on the day we had to get back home, I'd wager. It's the universe's way of making things run smoothly."

"I'm gonna miss you," Brooke sighed. "You're so much fun! You're like the grandmother I never had. Come visit soon?"

"You can bet your bottom dollar!" May chuckled. "And when that baby comes, you make sure Nathan rings us up, you hear? I don't want to be even a half a second late!"

Nathan did a mock salute. "Yes, Grandma."

"Good boy!" She held open her arms. "Hug and kiss for your dear old grandmother?"

Nathan laughed and engulfed May in yet another hug. "Thanks for coming," he whispered into her ear.

"Any time."

"Stop your dodling, May. We've got to hurry up!" Royal grumped as he came into the room, pulling their luggage bags behind him.

"You've still got three hours before you have to be at the airport," Brooke whined. "Can't you stay just a little bit longer?"

May glanced at Royal, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Royal?"

Royal promptly shook his head. "We've got things to do, May." He looked to Nathan. "Places to go, people to meet…"

Nathan hid a knowing smile, recalling their conversation from earlier in the week. He nodded. "My grandfather's anal about promptness, Brooke. It's best to just let him do his thing. Don't worry, knowing my grandmother, they'll be back before you can blink."

"What he said," May nodded.

Brooke twirled a strand of her hair as she watched Nathan and Royal share a firm handshake, then she approached her boyfriend's grandfather and surprised him by tossing her arms over his shoulders. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Scott. I hope you come back soon."

Royal stood there, ramrod straight in Brooke's arms, as though he wasn't going to respond, then to the room's surprise, he tucked one hand around Brooke and gave her a faint pat on the back. "The pleasure was mine, Miss Davis."

Brooke scurried back to Nathan's side, holding back the grin that wanted to burst onto her face. She knew what had just occurred was landmark, but the last week had trained her to not make too big a deal about it. "See you soon!" she chirped as she waved to the older couple from the front door, as they strode out to the taxi waiting for them at the curb. To her amusement, she even received a longwinded wave back from May from the back of the cab until it disappeared around the block.

Nathan shook his head while watching Brooke and his grandmother, the only two waving until they were out of sight. "No wonder she likes you."

"You're just jealous," Brooke taunted. "I think she likes me better."

"I think she likes you better too," Deb agreed, to the glare of her son. "You have a great rapport with her. In all the years I've been with Dan, I've never seen her take to someone the way she took with you. In fact, come to think of it, this was really the first time she and I have ever gotten along this well."

"She's my idol!" Brooke chortled. "Okay, cooking isn't exactly my forte, but did you also know she's this incredible seamstress? Knitter? Quilter?" she gushed. "She showed me a couple of really neat sewing tricks that I can't wait to try out! She also said she's going to make the baby his or her first baby blanket."

Deb nodded. "That's May for you. She knitted Nathan's first baby blanket too."

"Really?"

"I still have it if you'd like to see it sometime."

"Um, _yes!_"

The blonde pushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "Done. You know what? I'll work on unpacking Nathan's old baby things while you two are at the appointment."

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Brooke asked.

"Like May said, it's for the parents, not the grandparents. But thank you for the offer."

Brooke bounced up and down with the energy of a toddler on sugar. "I'm so excited!" she squeaked. "I can't believe we're actually going to find out the sex of the baby today! Aren't you excited?"

"Yes, but I'm toning myself down, because I think you're bursting enough for the both of us."

"I have so many ideas. Pink, blue, pink, blue…my head's just imploding with all kinds of themes!"

"C'mon, Cinnie Minnie!"

"Cinnie Minnie?"

Nathan playfully slapped her butt. "For the Cinnabon obsessed? I think it works."

"Shut up!"

"I'm liking it more and more each time you tell me that, because I think it's code for 'Keep going, you're absolutely right and I can't stand to admit it!'"

"Shut up!"

"I knew it!"

Brooke reached around to her boyfriend's backside and gave him a well deserved pinch. As he reacted – rather violently – she flounced out the door, grabbing his letterman's jacket and her backpack on the way out. "See you later, Deb!"

"I've missed that old Brooke Cheer," he said once he got into the driver's seat. "It's probably why we didn't win the last three games of the season. Tree Hill High's cheeriest cheerleader wasn't leading the flock."

"Too busy incubating the captain of the next generation."

"Captain of what?" Nathan questioned. "The boys' basketball team or the cheer squad?"

"Well I tried to get your grandma to tell us all week, but all she kept saying was 'you'll find out when the time is right' so what's another hour?" She rolled her eyes. "And besides, who says she couldn't be captain of the girls' basketball team? Or a male cheerleader?" Her knuckles crunched into Nathan's arm. "Don't be sexist, baby."

"I'm not sex-_ist_, I'm sex-_y_."

"Whatever you say, Nate-_y_. Or – or did you say it was Natey the Greaty?"

"No! That is going too far, you can't soil that great nickname!"

"Oh, and whatcha gonna do to stop me?" From her backpack she extracted her sketchbook and pencil.

Nathan stole a peek at the drawings before she had a chance to turn the page. "Hey, isn't that the same thing you're wearing?"

"Good eye! Yeah, I updated a bunch of these old clothes Haley's mom gave me and while your grandma was here, we actually sewed them up to match my drawings."

"So that's what you two were doing all night in your room?"

"Oh?" Brooke challenged. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"It was hard not to hear the cackling through the door!" he shot back.

"_Jeal-ous!"_

Nathan watched Brooke sketch from the corner of his eye. "How old are those things anyway? They look brand new."

"That's the beauty of a little reconstructive work."

"You've got a real talent," Nathan smiled.

"Thanks. Now if only I could apply the same thing to my grades. It kind of sucks that the baby is due right near the end of September. I already have enough trouble with school, so I can only imagine how behind I'm gonna be after the birth." She rolled her eyes. "Might have to give Tutor Girl a ring."

"Have you ever thought about a fashion scholarship?"

Brooke ruptured with laughter. "Yeah, if only! I don't think they really have those, do they?"

Nathan shrugged. "Fashion designers have to go to school somewhere, right?"

The ex-cheerleader shrugged distractedly as the hospital came into view. As her boyfriend began to search for a parking spot, she slid her doodles into her backpack. "I think there might be some organizations that offer scholarships for teen parents. Speaking of, when you graduate, where do you think you'll go? I mean, you'll probably get a basketball scholarship, right?"

"I might not go now. Who knows, right? You and the baby are top priority."

"And as much as I love that you just said that, I want you to be happy and not just bound by us. You've got so much passion for basketball, Nate. And you're made for it. You can't just give that up."

"Hey." He killed the engine and reached his hand over to Brooke's leg, where he rested it. "Let's just take things one day at a time, okay? Looking to the future is good, but right now I think we need to live in the present. So let's just get through the pregnancy first and then we can worry about graduation."

Brooke lifted his hand from her leg and pressed his fingers to her lips. She kissed them sweetly, then blew a single word into them: "Okay."

"Now, are you ready to go see our baby for the first time?"

Brooke pressed her hands together and made a series of tiny claps in rapid succession while emitting a high pitched squeal. "Yes!"

On their way up to the hospital doors, Nathan looped his arm around Brooke's shoulders and opened the door for her. "Do you have any blondes in your family?"

"Why?" she asked, leaning her face into the side of his shoulder.

"Just curious. I think it's a recessive gene."

"And what's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm just hoping he or she isn't blonde. If it's a girl, I'd like to see her get your hair."

"Oh come on!" Brooke patted his chest. "Your grandma's blonde. But, just for the record, no, I can't recall any blondes in my family. Not that my knowledge of my family is that great or anything, mind you. My parents were only children, my dad's parents had him late in life so one died before I was born and the other died when I was almost two, and my mother – and I use the term loosely – was disinherited, I would assume for being the epic bitch that she is. But from the few pictures I've seen growing up, they were all black or brown." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, what's wrong with blondes?"

"Nothing's wrong with blondes, they just seem to represent something tragic in my life." Nathan pressed the up arrow on the elevator.

"Tragic?" Brooke perked her eyebrow. "You mean Peyton?"

"And Keith, my uncle, and Lucas. And even my grandmother and my mom. I love them both, mind you, but…I don't know. Blondes versus brunettes. It seems there always has to be a winner in my family and yet nobody wins. I just want to break the mold I guess. Call me superstitious." The doors slid open, a slew of people rushed out, and the two teenagers stepped inside.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be opposed to her resembling your mom." She shrugged nonchalantly. "But I hope whatever the case, girl or boy, blonde or not, I hope our baby has your eyes." Brooke looked down and pressed the button for their floor.

"Did you pull that line out of a romance novel?"

Brooke punched him lightly in the arm. "Shut up! I just…like your eyes, Nate. And if I have to get up at three in the morning to change a diaper or heat up a bottle, I want those to be the eyes I look into."

Nathan grabbed his girlfriend by the shoulders and steadied her in front of him. He hooked her chin with his index finger to tilt her head back and bring their eyes into alignment. The elevator dinged and the doors began to open. Nathan quickly pressed the button to close the doors, causing several people on the other side to growl and yell in protest as the opening doors began to close again, then he leaned down to Brooke's height and kissed her softly on the top of her nose, before moving his mouth to her lips in a tender, moist moment.

Brooke slid her arms around Nathan's neck and held his mouth to hers until the doors opened again, this time with a rush of angry bystanders.

"Damn kids!"

"Holding up the elevator to have sex!"

"Get a room!"

Brooke giggled mid-kiss and withdrew her arms from Nathan's neck, tugged him out of the elevator, and the doors immediately shut behind them. Her face was flushed and while she laughed, Nathan began to also. "What was that all about?" she asked, when she finally could breathe. "Were you just trying to be spontaneous or something?"

"No." He opened the door to the waiting room. "I just wanted to assure you that every time you wake up at three A.M. to change a diaper or heat up a bottle, I'm always going to be right there with you."

"Nathan Scott…" Brooke shook her head. "I don't even know what to say."

"Davis?"

Brooke jumped and clapped her hands together giddily. "That's us!" She tugged Nathan up to the counter. "Here!"

"You'll need to sign in here."

Brooke scribbled her name onto the sign in sheet. She grasped Nathan's hand energetically as the nurse led them through a back door, stopping only once to shake Brooke's weight and height before showing them to their room.

"I'll need you to put on this gown." The nurse checked her clipboard. "I see here you have quite a bit of trouble early on in your pregnancy. Have you have any unusual symptoms since your last appointment?"

Brooke climbed onto the paper covered bed and shook her head. "Swollen feet and some back pain, but that's normal from what I've been told."

The nurse nodded and made a few more notations onto her clipboard. "The doctor will be with you shortly."

Brooke snatched the blue paper dressing gown off the table as soon as the nurse was gone and then turned suggestively to Nathan. "You wanna undress me, Mr. Scott?"

Nathan let his hands fall to her hips. "I undress you constantly," he winked. "With my eyes. Any chance to do it with my hands is one I'm not going to waste." He hooked the hem of her shirt between his middle and index fingers and tugged it up slowly, allowing his palms to lick the sides of her torso until they got to the point of her underarms and Brooke finally had to raise her arms so that he could get the shirt off completely.

Brooke let her arms fall onto Nathan's shoulders and smiled brilliantly at him, wearing just a turquoise bra and black maternity pants. "I like it when you look at me like this," she said wistfully. "It makes me feel sexy."

Nathan caressed his hands over her swollen belly and pressed them upwards to embrace the curvature of her bust. "You look sexy no matter what."

Brooke scrunched up her nose and flashed him a grin, showing off all of her pearly teeth against her red lipstick in the way that was entirely unique to her. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted this. How lucky am I?" She leaned in on her tippy toes and planted a kiss on Nathan's mouth.

Nathan slipped the gown out of her hand and shook it open. "As much as I'd like to continue staring at you like this, you should probably put this on before the doctor gets in." Despite Brooke's pout he managed to wrangle her into the gown and get her onto the bed. He was holding her hand when the doctor arrived.

"So we're going to find out the sex of the baby today?" she asked, smiling at the happy couple. She held out her hand, shaking Nathan's hand and then Brooke's. "I'm Dr. Denise White, by the way."

"Brooke Davis," Brooke greeted. "And this is my boyfriend, Nathan Scott."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Dr. White nodded. She turned on the ultrasound machine and moved to the drawer to withdraw a tube. "Now, this is your first pregnancy, Brooke?"

Brooke nodded. "Yeah and you don't have to tell me: that's going to be cold, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," Dr. White agreed. She folded back Brooke's gown just enough to reveal her stomach and carefully applied a palm sized globule of clear jelly. For a few moments, Dr. White moved the node around Brooke's belly and a fuzzy image appeared on screen.

Brooke pointed excitedly to it and squeezed Nathan's hand, emitting a high pitched squeal. "That's our baby!"

Nathan squinted a little. "Uhm – exactly what is our baby?" he asked, unsure of where to look. It all just looked like a bunch of undulating lines to him.

Dr. White looked at the screen and frowned slightly. "Hm."

The smile fell from Brooke's face. "'Hm'? Is that a bad 'hm'?"

Dr. White shook her head and pointed to the top left of the screen. "That's your baby's head," she said. Then, carefully, she outlined a fetal form with her gloved finger. "And that would be your baby, there. See that, it's a foot."

Brooke nodded eagerly. "And is it a little girl foot or a little boy foot?" she prodded.

"That's the problem," Dr. White spoke gently. "I can't tell."

"But - why not?"

Dr. White laughed. "Well, he – or she – has crossed his – or her – legs."

"They can do that? In the womb?" Nathan exclaimed.

Dr. White nodded. "Mhmm. They can also suck their thumbs, just like yours is doing," she laughed while pointing to the screen. "See that right there? Your baby's sucking its thumb."

Brooke's jaw dropped open. "Can we get a picture of that?"

"Absolutely!"

"But there's no way to know the sex?" Nathan clarified.

"Not unless the baby chooses to uncross its legs."

"How do we get it to do that?"

"Well, sometimes parents have had luck pressing on the mother's stomach to try and nudge the baby into another position."

Brooke nodded eagerly and began to poke her stomach. On the screen, the lines wiggled and jiggled and the little frame moved somewhat. "Is it working?"

After roughly ten minutes of poking and Brooke getting up, walking around, and then lying back down, Dr. White shook her head sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Ms. Davis. But your baby simply doesn't seem to be cooperating today."

"Is there a way to find out at a later date?"

"You'd have to schedule another ultrasound. I'm not sure what kind of insurance you have though, if any, but typically insurance only covers one ultrasound. They're extremely pricey out of pocket."

Brooke nodded disappointedly. "I understand."

Dr. White took a cloth and wiped off Brooke's stomach and the node before sterilizing the latter, then she knelt down to the printer on the machine and pulled off the print it had taken of the ultrasound. "At least you have this and if you do choose to come in for another ultrasound at a later date, I'll be happy to try again with you. As of now, you seem to be progressing beautifully, Ms. Davis and I look forward to seeing you again for your next appointment."

"Thank you," Nathan and Brooke spoke in unison.

"Have a wonderful afternoon."

Nathan waited until Dr. White had left and then he turned to Brooke, who he realized was busy with her eyes glued to the ultrasound photo. He leaned into her personal space on the bed to get a good look and realized that Brooke's eyes were glittering in the fluorescent light. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she sniffed, dabbing her nose. "You know what? I don't even care! Boy or girl doesn't matter: just look at that! That's our baby, Nathan. We _created_ that! Our very own little thumb sucker."

Nathan rested his head on the pillow against Brooke's, unable to take his eyes off the photo. "All I want is for him or her to be a perfectly happy, healthy baby, just like his or her gorgeous mother."

Brooke snuggled her cheek against Nathan's. "That's all that I want too."


End file.
